LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



MENTAL SCIENCE 



A TEXT-BOOK 



FOR 



SCHOOLS AND COLLEGES 



EDWARD JOHN HAMILTON, D.D. 

PROFESSOR OF INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY IN HAMILTON COLLEGE, N.Y. 



V 4 'L .'-^ 



I 



NEW YORK 
ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS 

530 Broadway 

1886 



VN^xb\, 



^^ 






Copyright, 1885, 
By Edward John Hamilton. 



John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 



PREFACE. 



This volume is a response to advice and encouragement 
given the author b}' several eminent professors, and also the 
execution of a purpose partially entertained at the time of the 
pubHcation of his former book, "The Human Mind." The 
discussions in that treatise, in order to justify peculiarities of 
doctrine, are frequently extended and minute. It was pro- 
posed, in case the work met with favor, to reproduce its chap- 
ters in a simpler form. The author need hardly say that the 
reception accorded "The Human Mind" has surpassed his 
highest expectations. 

"Mental Science," therefore, is now offered as an educa- 
tional manual, and as a compend for the reading of those who 
would inform themselves respecting the doctrines of an earnest 
philosophy without entering upon non-essential details. The 
majority of the discussions have been not merely abridged, 
but simplified ; a considerable number have been entirely re- 
written. Some chapters, too, which are devoted to logical 
questions, and which may prove serviceable in connection with 
some future effort, have been omitted. It has, however, been 
the aim to present a true theory of every normal activity of 
the intellect. 

In order to assist the eye in that work of review which is a 
condition of all thorough scholarship, teachers will perceive that 
italics have been employed more freely than would otherwise 
be desirable. They w^ill also notice that ten out of the fifty 
chapters into which the treatise is divided have been printed 



iv PREFACE. 

in small type. The dissertations thus marked are not deemed 
absolutely indispensable to a course in psychology. They are, 
however, as interesting as any others in the book, and they 
have no peculiar difficult}^ 



The general system of doctrine in the service of which both 
" The Human Mind " and "Mental Science" have been com- 
posed, might be styled Perception alism. For some such term 
ma}^ properly designate a form of philosophy which main- 
tains, from an anah^tical and theoretical point of view, that 
TYianhind are not deluded in claiming that they perceive fact 
and truths and that what they call their perceptions are true 
perceptions of those very things which they say that they 
perceive. 

Some old writers have described this radical doctrine which 
Perception alism supports as that of "the reliability of those 
faculties which God has given us." This is a fair definition ; 
but it should be understood that the reference to our Maker 
in it is not presented in proof of the doctrine, but simply to 
indicate that trustworthiness is claimed only for well-known and 
actually existing faculties, and not for any faculties the concep- 
tion of which is peculiar to some philosophic school. 

The word ' ' perception " is sometimes limited in its applica- 
tion : we now use it in its most unrestricted meaning. For we 
have perceptions of simple fact and perceptions of necessary 
relations ; presentational perceptions and inferential percep- 
tions ; the perceptions of sense and of consciousness, and per- 
ceptions concomitant of these ; the perceptions of the intuitive, 
and those of the discursive, reason ; we perceive what is true 
actualistically and what is true hypotheticallj- ; we perceive 
the possible and the necessary, and the contingent and the 
probable. 

Our doctrine is that all these perceptions, when made by a 
sound mind and under proper conditions, are trustworthy ; and 
our philosophy finds justification for this doctrine in the critical 
investigation of every mode of human cognition or conviction. 



PREFACE. V 

Perceptionalism does not assert that the mind of man is 
infallible. On the contrary, recognizing the frequent recur- 
rence of error, it seeks to understand the sources and laws 
of mistaken belief as well as those of correct belief. But it 
emphasizes the truth that man is capable of knowledge, or well- 
grounded certainty, about many things ; and that where this 
is not attainable, he may often wisely form a judgment of 
probability. 

We allow that the dogmatic statement of this truth, even 
though accompanied by arguments showing its excellence and 
reasonableness?, could scarcely be entitled a system of phi- 
losophy. If, however, the reliability of our faculties became 
evident as the last result of an exhaustive analysis of the phe- 
nomena of the intellect, then, in the S3'stem thus evolved, we 
say that there would be a philosophy worthy of the name. 

We trust that the discussions now again, in simpler form, 
presented to the public, may once more be welcomed as an 
attempt in the right direction. 

For some time past our country has been invaded by two 
systems of speculation, which, like an army with two wings ex- 
tended in martial arra}', have threatened to subdue America 
either to a materialistic or to an idealistic agnosticism. But 
the educated thought of this land cannot be permanently affected 
by theories which resolve our commonest and most assured 
convictions into doubt and unbelief. It is our confident ex- 
pectation that some such system as that which we have named 
Perceptionalism will be the philosophy of the future in these 
United States. 

E. J. H. 
Hamilton College, Clinton, N. Y., 
May 23, 1885. 



CONTENTS. 



Chapter Page 

I. Mental Philosophy and its Methods .... 1 

II. The Sources op Psychological Information . 7 

III. Primary Classifications 15 

IV. Sense and its Relations 24 

V. The Effi-ciency producing Sensation .... 33 

VI. Cerebralism, or Materialism 39 

VIL Sensationalism and Associationalism ... 50 

VIII. The Activity of Mind 58 

IX. Mental States and Mental Actions .... 65 

X. The Objectivity of Thought 72 

XI. The Ultimate in Thought 79 

XII. Ideal Existences 87 

XIII. Belief Defined 93 

XIV. Theories respecting Conviction 100 

XV. Judgment 105 

XVI. Knowledge Ill 

XVII. Evidence 118 

XVIII. Presentationalism 124 

XIX. Illative Evidence 133 

XX. Logical Necessity 142 

XXI. Logical Possibility 151 

XXII, Contingency and Probability 159 

XXIII. Attention and Acquisition 166 

XXIV. The Primary Laws of Association 178 

XXV. The Secondary Laws of Association .... 187 

XXVI. Analysis and Synthesis 194 

XXVII. Abstraction and Conception 205 



Yiii CONTENTS. 

Chapter Page 

XXVIII. Generalization 215 

XXIX. Realism and Nominalism 225 

XXX. The Phases of Intellect 231 

XXXI. The Perceptive, or Cognitive, Phase . . . 240 

XXXII. Consciousness 249 

XXXIII. Sense-Perception 259 

XXXIV. The Reliability of Presentational Cogni- 

tion 269 

XXXV. The Nature of Substance 279 

XXXVI. The Perception of Substance 285 

XXXVII. Matter and its Qualities 293 

XXXVIII. Concomitant Perception 300 

XXXIX. Compound and Acquired Perception . . . 310 

XL. The Fallacies of Sense 319 

XLI. Memory 326 

XLII. The Cultivation of JVIemory 335 

XLIII. Phantasy 343 

_-^ XLIV. Somnambulism and Hallucination .... 355 

XLV. The Poetic Imagination 362 

XL VI. The Philosophical Imagination 370 

XLVIL The Rational Faculty 378 

•XLVIII. Ratiocination 386 

XLIX. Experience and Intuition 396 

L. Metaphysics, or Ontology 406 

INDEX 413 



MENTAL SCIENCE, 



CHAPTER I. 

MENTAL PHILOSOPHY AND ITS METHODS. 

Mental phi- 1- Mental pMlosophy is the science — that is, the 
losopby de- accuratc and S3^stematized knowledge — of the intel- 
partmentof Icct. When Scientific knowledge is thorough and 
psychology, satisfactory, we know not only what a thing is, but 
also what it has to do with other things, and especiall}^ how it 
comes to be what it is. In other words, we know not only the 
nature of the object, but also its relations to other objects, 
and especiall}^ to the conditions of its existence. Mental phi- 
losophy, therefore, considers not only thought in its various 
forms and developments, but also the conditions on which these 
depend, and all the various relations of thought. 

In speaking of scientific knowledge as thorough and accu- 
rate, we do not claim for it absolute perfection, but onlj^ such 
excellence as care and diligence are able to attain. Great 
alterations have been made of late 3'ears in the natural sci- 
ences, — for example, in geograph}^, geology, chemistr\^, and 
physics ; nor does any one claim that no further progress is 
possible in the knowledge of the material creation. In like 
manner important changes have taken place in those sciences 
which relate to the life of spiritual beings ; errors have been 
eliminated, doubtful questions settled, -and new doctrines estab- 
lished. The metaphysical, logical, ethical, and political teach- 
ings of the present centurj^ differ greatly from those of ancient 
times, though not, perhaps, so much as the ph3'sical science 
of to-day differs from the theories of three centuries ago. In 
ascribing to mental philosoph}^ a scientific character, we claim 
only that this philosophy contains a well-ascertained and re- 
liable S3'stem of doctrines, and that it is progressing — though, 
it ma3' be, somewhat slowlj" — in the settlement of disputed 
questions. 



2 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. I. 

This philoso2:)hy is a department of psychology, which em- 
braces also the philosophy of sensation, and that of the emo- 
tional and motive powers of the soul, and that of the will. The 
mind, or intellect, is not an existence separate from the will 
or from the heart ; but, like each of these, it is simply the soul, 
or the spirit, viewed with exclusive reference to one set of its 
powers. The same object may be denominated in different ways, 
as it may be viewed in different lights. Thus the same person 
ma}" be spoken of as the judge, the law-giver, and the king 
of a people. The word ' ' intellect " was originally applied to that 
higher power of thought to which we commonly give the term 
" understanding," and which is an abilit}' to perceive not merely 
objects and facts, but also the reasons and relations of things. 
Now, however, it is often used so as to cover every form of 
the power of thought from the highest to the lowest, and is ap- 
plied to the soul as having this general power ; in this sense it 
corresponds exactly with the word " mind." 
Mind or Some define mind, or intellect, as the power of know- 
inteiiect, ing / we prefer to say that it is the power of think- 
^ "® ' ing. This difference primarily regards terms, yet even 
in this respect has some importance. A wrong use of terms 
is alwaj'S perplexing, and frequently results in error. The 
words '' knowing" and " knowledge " should not be generically 
applied to the phenomena of intellect, because we are conscious 
of various states and acts of mind which we naturally distin- 
guish from knowledge, and deny to be knowledge ; for example, 
suppositions and imaginings. But there is no mental state or 
operation which might not be characterized as thought or think- 
ing, or at least as involving thought or thinking. 

It is true that the word " thought " is sometimes used in spe- 
cific senses ; for example, one might say that he thinks, but 
that he does not know, that a certain piece of coin is coun- 
terfeit. Thinking, when thus contrasted with knowledge, sig- 
nifies an imperfect and less confident kind of conviction. But 
at the same time it is true that when we know, we have a 
thought — a conception — of that concerning which we know ; 
and thinking, in this sense, is alvmys a part of knowing. 
Again, the word "thought," used emphatically, may signify 
an attentive and rational exercise of the intellect. We speak 
of persons as thoughtful and as thoughtless, just as we speak of 
a man of mind and of a man without mind. We say, " Sits, 
fixed in thought, the mighty Stagirite." Here is another spe- 
cial sense, with which, however, the more general meaning co- 
exists ; for even the most thoughtless person is not without 
some form and degree of thinking. 



Chap. I.] MENTAL PHILOSOPHY AND ITS METHODS. 3 

We do not sa}^ that thought, even in the wide sense, is the 
only form of mental action, but that, in all cases of mental ac- 
tion which are not thinking, thinking is involved or presup- 
posed as a condition ; and that for this reason the intellect 
may properly be designated the power of thought. 
Mental phi- ^' Somc intelligent persons entertain a prejudice 
losopby rec- against mental science ; they regard it as obscure, un- 
ommen e . satisfactory, and without uscful application. It must 
be allowed that various metaph3^sical systems have been composed 
which are profound only in the sense of being hard to under- 
stand, and whose doctrines, when ascertained, are simply perni- 
cious delusions. We cannot expect people to spend much time 
in endeavoring to comprehend the absurdities of false philoso- 
phy. But it is evident that the rejection of all study of super- 
sensible things could he justified only on the supposition that 
the phenomena of mind or spirit are beyond the reach of care- 
ful and accurate investigation. Otherwise we wilfully turn our 
thought away from that nobler part of being to which we our- 
selves belong, and in whose life of thought, enjo3'ment, choice, 
dut}', and affection the ends of all existence are to be realized. 
Now the facts of psychical experience, so far from being re- 
moved from our inspection, are subjected to our immediate cog- 
nition, and are perfectly within the range of our attention and 
inquiry. They have been found difficult of observation and 
analysis, yet not so difficult as to prevent the formation of an 
excellent body of philosophy. Every earnest student can now 
find in mental science an ennobling and satisfying pursuit. 

Psychological studies, moreover, are as useful as they are 
noble. If their only utility were to satisfy a thirst for knowl- 
edge, and to occupy the mind with pure and elevating thoughts, 
this of itself would be a great benefit ; but the}' have value in 
other respects. The mental strength to be obtained from meta- 
ph3'sical pursuits is one of their chief recommendations. Per- 
haps no other employment contributes so effectuall}' to develop 
those powers of penetration and discrimination which are the 
chief elements of intellectual manliness and maturity. Then, 
too, psychology is the necessary foundation for those arts and 
sciences which pertain to the proper use of the various faculties 
of man. It is a stud}" indispensable to those who would im- 
prove and perfect such sciences, and of great assistance to all 
who would obtain a satisfactory understanding of them. Logic, 
which treats of the correct use of the rational faculty, is a di- 
rect outgrowth of mental philosoph}', and is constantly- receiv- 
ing important modifications from the latter science. Ethics 
also, especially in its more fundamental discussions, is based 



4 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. I. 

on a searching analj'sis of certain mental workings. Similar 
remarks appl}^ to aesthetics, or the philosophy of taste, and to 
rhetoric, which is the science of the pleasing and the persuasive 
in human thought and speech. 

A loise system of education must he regulated by a true psy- 
chology. Whether we would establish efficient schools for the 
young, or in a more general way subject ourselves and others 
to wholesome formative influences, we should seek the advice 
of mental philosophy. 

This science, too, throws great light on theology. It is the 
indispensable servant of theology. To understand Deity, we 
must understand man. In short, every science which in any 
way involves a consideration of the laws of spiritual existence 
finds a powerful assistant in the general philosophy of mind. 
TheBaco- . 3. An instructor in an}^ abstruse study should be 
nian method. ^^^^ ^q f^p^-jj g^^^ ^q cxprcss positive convictions. 
At the same time he should avoid even the appearance of dog- 
matism, and should endeavor to show that his views are rea- 
sonable. Especially he should make known the method by 
which his system of doctrine has been constructed, so that others 
may judge whether the method be a correct one ; and, if so, 
whether in any case he has departed from it. 

Without method no satisfactory progress can be made in 
philosophical investigations. The importance of it cannot be 
over-estimated, and has alwaj-s been acknowledged by thinking 
men, but more especially since the true method was illustrated 
and advocated by Lord Bacon. The S3"stem inaugurated by this 
distinguished man is founded on the evident truth, that, as phi- 
losoph}^ aims to explain facts, so it should seek that explanation 
in a questioning of the facts themselves. 

From this principle two modes of work originate, the first and 
more rudimentary of which is preparatory to the other. The 
primary philosophy merely observes facts and classifies those 
which are similar, and in this way obtains general facts, which 
are also the expression of certain laws or modes of Nature ; 
the more advanced philosophy carries on the investigation by 
analyzing the general facts already secured and co-ordinating 
their essential elements. By means of it we reach more pro- 
found and satisfying laws. 

Thus Newton, analj'zing those laws — of falling bodies, of 
planetary motions, and of projectiles — with which he was already 
familiar, discovered the more fundamental law of gravitation, 
which enters into these, and which continuall}' operates on mat- 
ter everywhere. In like manner Sir William Hamilton, follow- 
ing the suggestions of earlier writers, has resolved those various 



Chap. I.] MENTAL PHILOSOPHY AND ITS METHODS. 5 

laws of the association of ideas, which careful observation had 
established, into the comprehensive law of redintegration ; that 
is, that the mind tends to repeat fully any complex operation 
which it may formerly have experienced, and which it has now 
in any degree begun. In short, the laws of psychical no 
less than those of pli3'sical Nature are to be learned through 
the ascertainment and co-ordination, the analysis and generali- 
zation, of facts. Such being the case, the student of philosophy 
may boldly question any doctrine, though upheld b}^ the high- 
est ability and learning, which can claim no record of experi- 
ence or observation in its support, and as confidently hold any 
opinion sustained by accurately recorded and carefully analyzed 
phenomena. 

4. The statement that facts are the necessary foun- 
ance o?Siese dation for philosophy may seem to some too evident 
p7atoiiis1ii* *^ require emphasis. But the neglect of it in times 
past, and even in our own day, has been the source of 
many and great errors. The metaphysical worthlessness of almost 
all the ancient and of much of modern philosophy originates in 
the admission of high-sounding notions, the truth of which never 
was proved, and never could be proved, from any examination 
of things reall}^ existing. Onl}'^ fanciful and unsatisfactory S3'S- 
tems could be constructed after such beginnings. Plato and his 
followers, in ancient days, carried out the separation of philoso- 
phy from actuality more fully than any other class of thinkers ; 
and, in modern times, this has been done most signally by the 
German idealists. Plato adopted the principle that general or 
universal ideas are the onl}^ proper sources of knowledge and 
objects of study. The individual or specific he rejected as 
transitory and, in a sense, unreal. Such a commencement de- 
stro3'ed the possibilit}^ of progress. A revival of these Platonic 
views in an exaggerated form gave rise to the systems of 
Spinoza, Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel, by which the thought 
of continental Europe was powerful}}^ debauched. These phi- 
losophers, being too wise to appeal to experience, sought truth 
by the "immediate beholding of reason," and evolved it out 
of "the depths of their consciousness." The spirit of Hegeli- 
anism, even at the present time, may be inferred from the 
condemnation, by Dr. Schwegler, of Lord Bacon, as "the 
author of scientific empiricism," and b}^ his contemptuous 
assertion regarding Locke's philosophy, that its " empiricism 
is clear as day." It is a strange perversion of judgment 
when learned men condemn a philosophy on account of its 
chief excellence, and simply because it has been carefully de- 
duced from facts ! 



6 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. I. 

Aristotle ^^ those investigators, ancient and modern, who 

a«d the have rejected Platonic methods as dreamj^ and m^'s- 
sciiooimen. ^j^^j^ ^j^^y ^^^^ Until Comparatively recent times, have 
systematically based their doctrines on the analysis of observed 
phenomena. Aristotle, the illustrious rival of Plato, did not do 
so. The acuteness of this great man cannot be over-estimated, 
but the intrinsic value of his metaphysical writings has been 
grossly over-estimated. He did, indeed, recognize the truth 
that all our general knowledge is an induction from the ob- 
servation of particulars ; 3'et he did not sufficiently perceive 
the practical importance of this principle, — that it is the only 
true starting-point of all philosophy. The patient reader of his 
works can see that he has accepted from previous teachers many 
absurd doctrines which admit of no proof, and that he forms his 
own theories depending, first on his own penetration, then on 
the opinions of preceding philosophers, then on the logical sup- 
port which other doctrines may give the one under discussion, 
and then, last and least of all, on facts. Remarks similar to 
these might be made respecting the schoolmen of the Middle 
Ages, and regarding the authors of some famous S3'stems of 
speculation. We might also trace the progress of the last few 
generations, in psychology, to a more faithful observation and a 
more patient analysis of mental phenomena than were formerly 
attempted. 

Induction ^* '^^^ Baconian method of philosophizing is termed 
and "The Inductive S^-stem," because the induction of 

analysis. principles from facts is its distinguishing character- 
istic. This work largely consists in the observation and classi- 
fication of facts as similar. But it includes more than this : 
it reaches from the past to the future, from that which has been 
seen to that which has not as 3^et been seen ; and, indeed, the 
most essential part of it is the exercise of a power of judgment 
natural to us. Eveiy fact, that is, ever}^ causal fact — for of 
such only we speak at present — consists of certain antecedents 
and consequents ; and it is an intuition of the intellect that sim- 
ilar antecedents must be accompanied or followed by similar 
consequents. Whenever a fact seems to contradict this princi- 
ple, it is because some element which should exist in the ante- 
cedent to make the case similar to one previously observed, has 
escaped observation, and is not seen to be wanting. Thus, by 
means of an inductive judgment, the observation of facts results 
in the ascertainment of laws. 

But, in the conjunction of circumstances which make up the 
antecedent in any particular fact, some circumstances only 
are essential elements of the antecedent ; others are merely 



Chap. II.] SOURCES OF PSYCHOLOGICAL INFORMATION. 7 

accidental and no jDart of the true cause. Hence the necessit}^ of 
analysis^ — of discrimination, — without which induction alone 
could not obtain the exact statement of any law. Moreover, as 
the laws of existence do not operate singly but in combination, 
there is 3'et more need of analysis to resolve these combinations, 
and in this wa}^ to ascertain laws which are simple and ultimate. 
In the ruder attainments of philosophy induction is more prom- 
inent than analysis, — the latter takes place spontaneously, — but 
in the more abstruse inquiries this state of things is reversed. 
It is difficult to say whether of the two is more necessary to 
philosophical progress. They are equally the indispensable 
instruments of science. All the rules of philosophizing simply 
assist and direct us to the successful employment of these two 
modes of thought. 



CHAPTER 11. 

THE SOURCES OF PSYCHOLOGICAL INFORMATION. 

1. As science arises from the investigation of facts, an impor- 
tant question with respect to any department of knowledge is, 
whether there be abundant and reliable sources of information. In 
this respect the mental philosopher is peculiarly fortunate. The 
study of ps3'chical phenomena demands attention and thoughtful- 
ness ; and it is a work of some difficult}^ to those unaccustomed 
to it, just as reading or mental application of an}^ kind is com- 
monly irksome and laborious to uneducated persons. Yet the 
student of mind has this great advantage, that the operations 
and states of this wonderful agent are continually subject to his 
observation, and even, in a considerable measure, to his control. 
Besides, the facts thus submitted to him are those respecting 
the truth of which it is impossible to entertain a doubt. The 
most extravagant sceptic cannot question the existence of those 
thoughts, feelings, wishes, and actions which constitute his rest- 
less life of unbelief. 

,. , The radical source of all information regarding 

The radical .,. . .,^. -.. i^tt* 

source of iu- mmd IS consciousness, or that immediate knowledge 
formation, -^jjict^ ^jj^ mjnd has of its own states and operations. 
All other means of knowledge are of use onl}^ as they co-operate 
with this. Our knowledge, through consciousness, of the nature 
and workings of our own spirits is our only means of under- 
standing the life of other spiritual beings and of comprehending 



8 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. H. 

the indications of their psychical activity. Each of us, knowing 
■what passes within his own bosom, learns to understand the 
experience of others. A child not more than two or three 3'ears 
of age can speak of its thoughts and affections, wishes and 
pleasures, pains, hopes, and disappointments ; and knows, also, 
that others are similarly exercised. This statement can be 
easil}^ verified : question the little prattler, and you will find 
that he uses terms expressive of mental, just as intelligently 
as those indicative of bodity, operations. And these cognitions 
of spirit, thus early begun, are continued throughout life, pertain 
to ever}' form of experience, and are free from all uncertainty. 

Two important diflQculties are to be encountered in using the 
testimony of consciousness. 

In the first place, the changeful rapidity of our ps3xhical 
operations interferes with the steadiness of our gaze. What the 
poet saj's of pleasures is true of mental phenomena in general ; 
they are 

"Like that Borealis race 
Which flit ere you can point their place." 

And even when the current of inward life is partially arrested, 
that special phase of experience which is made the object of 
scrutiny often changes its nature while we are endeavoring to 
look upon it. The feeling grows cold ; the mental image becomes 
dim ; the concrete practical notion resolves itself into its elements. 
Psychological facts call for a keen and quick observation. They 
resemble those sea-birds which are ever on the wing, — which 
move even while at rest, and must be shot while flying. 

The second hindrance experienced in using the testimony of 
consciousness arises from the impossibility of proving the correct- 
ness of one's observation by exhibiting to others those phenomena 
which are visible directly onlj- to one's self. This difficulty is 
more formidable in appearance than in realit}'. The earnest and 
patient student can generally S3^mpathize sufficiently with his 
teacher to understand and appreciate an appeal to consciousness. 
Nevertheless, there is here some opportunity for difference ; the 
disputatious opponent and even the honest inquirer may some- 
That may be 3'our experience, but it is not mine." 
2. Because, therefore, of the subtile and evanescent 
J character of mental phenomena, and because of the 
Languagl*""' i«ipossibiUty of presenting the facts of consciousness 
to the immediate observation of others, great value 
attaches to certain indirect revelations of mind, which are sub- 
ject to public and general scrutin}-. 

The most important of these is language, — that man^ellous 
instrument, the expression and embodiment of human thought. 



Secondar; 
sources oi 



Chap.il] sources of psychological information. 9 

Not only every word, but also every change, construction, and 
combination of words, in language, represents some form or 
mood of man's intelligence. And so well suited is this instru- 
ment for its office, that no idea, however delicate, which may 
have secured the interest of men, fails of expression in their 
speech. He who has mastered the vocabularj^ and linguistic 
forms of any people has obtained a perfect measure of their 
mental development. Moreover, every word in any language 
has a certain fixed meaning, which can be ascertained ; and this 
circumstance is of great assistance when we would study the 
thoughts of men. For the transitory idea is made fixed and 
permanent b}^ its sign, and is shown also to be an existing 
reality. No matter how much we may question the truthfulness 
of any conceptions, we cannot deny the existence of the notions 
themselves if they onl^^ have become established in the speech 
of any people. The relations of words, also, illustrate the rela- 
tions of ideas ; so that many points concerning the contents 
and combinations, changes and successions, agreements and 
diff'erences, of thoughts can be understood better through a 
critical study of language than in any other waj^. 

Another source of information is found in those vol- 
piishmenS' uutary actious, labors, and accomplishments which 
men^^^^^^^^ result from mental activity. Every human being has 
the power of perceiving both his own actions and those 
of his companions ; and as he refers his own conduct to his own 
inward life as its cause, he intuitivel}' adopts a similar rule with 
regard to the conduct of others. Moreover, as different thoughts 
and aims result in different actions corresponding to them, we 
learn to use specific deeds as the indicators of specific thoughts. 
Sometimes the thoughts of men are even better understood from 
their actions than from their language. We not onl}^ trace 
actions to thoughts ; we also ascribe accomplished results to 
actions. This is a j'et greater exercise of mental penetration ; 
and b}'" means of it we can perceive most plainl}" the former 
presence and activitj^ of departed laborers. Beholding a field 
fenced and tilled, we are as sure that husbandmen have wrought 
in it as if we had seen them with onr eyes. Nor is it necessary 
to such a judgment that we should have previously witnessed 
the performance of a work in ever}^ respect the same as that 
submitted to our consideration. There is need only of an essen- 
tial sameness or similarity. One who might be acquainted with 
the manufacture of locomotives, but who had never seen a steam- 
ship, could affirm, on an inspection of the latter, that it was the 
product of a similar exercise of intelligence, and intended for a 
similar purpose. In like manner we think that there is as much 



10 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. IL 

evidence of design in the sting of a wasp as in the barbed and 
poisoned arrow of a savage, and that there is more proof of 
skill and wisdom in the formation of the eye than in the con- 
struction of the telescope. All investigators of mind, from the 
earliest ages, have learned much respecting the existence and 
the activity- of intellect from its manifestations in human life and 
histor}', and in the mightier works and ways of the Supreme 
Being. 

Works of lit- Man}^ data of mental science may be obtained from 
erature. works of literature. These themselves are the pro- 
ductions of intellect, so that ever}^ volume ma}^ be studied as 
well with reference to the mind of the author as with reference 
to the subjects treated. What wonderful powers, what inter- 
esting operations, are revealed in the orations of Cicero and 
Demosthenes, in the poems of Homer and Virgil, in the discus- 
sions of Plato and Aristotle ! Besides, by the labors of men of 
genius, the varying phases of human thought and life, the history 
of man's past experience and achievements, and the peculiarities 
of the different races inhabiting the earth, have been carefully 
represented, recorded, and discussed. The writings of such men 
— poets, dramatists, historians, philosophers — yield us great 
direct assistance. 

Physioiocricai ^' '^^^ study of Certain bodil}^ phenomena, as being 
piienomejia morc or Icss closcly connected with psychical states 
with'pyschi- ^nd operations, is another source of philosophic infor- 
noio ^Qp' "^^^^^1^5 1^ which, however, some have ascribed undue 
' ' importance. The influence of health and of disease 
upon mental vigor, the effect of severe stud}^ or of strong pas- 
sion on the physical frame, the connection of sensation and 
of sense-perception with the nervous system, and the general 
dependence of psychical activity upon the condition of the brain, 
are topics deserving of earnest consideration. It is onl}' through 
an investigation of these topics that we can determine those laws 
by which soul and body are united in one life. At the same 
time we have the following remarks to make. 

First, it is clear that no study of physical phenomena can, 
of itself reveal the phenomena of spirit. No thought, feeling, 
or desire can be discerned by any of the senses. No one has 
ever seen, touched, or handled these things, or made any ap- 
proach to doing so. Our knowledge of the relations of soul and 
body is not founded on a perception of bodik changes alone, 
but quite as much on our consciousness of mental states and 
operations. If we were not first cognizant of inward experiences, 
we never could think of their connection with our outward and 
corporeal life. A scrutiny of the teachings of consciousness is, 



Chap. II.] SOURCES OF PSYCHOLOGICAL INFORMATION. 11 

therefore, a necessary requisite for the successful prosecution of 
phrenological or similar studies. Mere anatomical investiga- 
tions, however skilfully conducted, must be useless, even for 
those purposes in mental science which they may properly pro- 
mote, if the questioning of consciousness be carelessly or imper- 
fectly performed. 

In the next place, the psj^chical laws connected with these 
phj'Sical phenomena are not the laws of spirit viewed simply as 
spirit^ or essentially; they are only tha laws affecting the soul 
in its connection with the body. The former, which are the 
more numerous and influential, can be ascertained solely by the 
questioning of the facts of consciousness as directly or indirectly 
revealed ; the main work of the mental philosopher has respect 
to them. The latter — that is, the laws affecting the spirit as 
embodied — form only a secondary, though important topic of 
stud}^ 

Finally, it is to be noticed that, while the more general and 
fundamental laws of the causal connection between soul and 
bod}' have been tolerably well ascertained, little has been deter- 
mined regarding the special modes in which these laws operate. 
Sense-perception, on the one hand, handling and dissecting the 
body, and consciousness, on the other, reflecting on the soul and 
its activities, disclose to us two very different objects. Hence 
we distinguish mind from brain, and from aught else material, 
as clearly and as easily as we distinguish the coiled electric wire 
from that subtile agency which lives and works within it. After 
this, observation and induction show that soul and bod}', through 
different parts of the nervous system, are continually acting on 
each other in various ways. But when we ask in what manner 
brain and mind affect each other, — by what means mental excite- 
ment may cause cerebral disturbance, and cerebral disturbance 
mental excitement, — in what wa}^ each sensory nerve produces 
its peculiar and appropriate sensation, — or what may be the 
several offices of the different ganglia and other portions of the 
brain, the investigation becomes difficult. The attempt to solve 
such questions as these has often resulted in discouragement 
to the patient investigator ; and most of the answers which 
have been offered to any of them must be regarded as merely 
conjectures of greater or less probabilit}''. 

We think, therefore, that those commit a mistake who say 
that certain physiological and anatomical researches are the 
only or chief sources of psychological knowledge. Such studies 
of themselves can impart no information as to the mind and its 
workings. Even when properl^y conducted they do not disclose 
any of the essential laws of spirit, but only those affecting the 



12 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chaf. II. 

soul as embodied. And so far as they concern specific instru- 
ments and modes of operation, they have, as 3'et, made very 
moderate progress. At the same time, while rejecting the doc- 
trine of the dependence of mental philosophy on physiological 
facts or theories, we would not be understood to deny the impor- 
tance of the specific inquiries already mentioned, nor yet the in- 
debtedness of psychology to anatomical science for much most 
valuable information. 

4. The beliefs and judgments of our fellow-men are frequently 
referred to b}^ writers in mental science. These judgments often 
prove incorrect, and are not alwa3"s reliable even in matters 
apparentl}'' simple. Yet the consideration of them is a source 
of assistance to which the true thinker, however self-reliant he 
may be, constantly and seriously applies. There are two ways 
in which a reference to the beliefs of men is of prime impor- 
The value ^ance in philosophy. In the first place, we ma}' regard 
and use of thcsc beliefs simply as psychological facts, and we 
ijeft simpfy Hiay cudcavor to ascertain them accurately and to 
as facts. explain the laws of their formation. It is from this 
point of view that we begin the work of solving that most fun- 
damental problem of philosoph}^ namely, that of determining 
those general modes of conviction which, by reason of an innate 
intellectual necessit3\ are invariably followed by the human mind. 
And any law regulating the formation of beliefs and explain- 
ing the causes of error or the progress of knowledge can be 
properl}^ learned only by a critical examination of the facts of 
experience. 

The author- Again, the convictions of others are important to 
itative value the investigator, not simply as facts for study, but as 
ions^^ofTth- opinions endowed with more or less authorit3^ This 
ers: of men ^ge is related to the first, but is clearl}^ distinguish- 
of ^pMioso- able from it. yer3^ diverse estimates have been put 
phers. ]3Q^|^ ^^ ^|^q views of learned and scientific men and on 

the beliefs and judgments of men in general. Some have held to 
the absolute truth of an3^ universall3^ entertained opinion. They 
have asserted, too boldl3^, that the voice of the people is the 
voice of God. Others, despising the conceptions of the vulgar, 
as concerned onl3^ with the appearances of things, have ascribed 
wisdom to philosophers alone. Their doctrine is, that the vision 
of the real, the true, the eternal, is granted to wise men ; the 
mass of men see merely the uncertain and transitor3^ and do 
not penetrate to the essence of things. The truth is, that within 
certain limits the convictions of mankind in general should have 
great authorit3", while be3'ond those limits the opinion of the 
people, as opposed to that of the learned, is of ver3' little weight. 



Chap. Ill SOURCES OF PSYCHOLOGICAL INFORMATION. 13 

Those facts (or phenomena) which are immediately subject to 
the perception of sense or consciousness can be witnessed as 
well by the uneducated as by the scientific ; the general testi- 
mon}^ of men concerning such facts must be received without 
question, provided only that it first be accurately ascertained 
and understood. We must believe with all men that the world 
around us exists, and that we exist in it ; that we have bodies 
gifted with certain powers and capable of certain aflfections ; and 
that we have souls, also, which think and feel, resolve and act. 
These are matters of immediate, as distinguished from discursive 
or rational, knowledge. 

Moreover, in such practical affairs as involve questions of 
advantage and disadvantage lohich are not complicated., the 
judgment of communities is commonly correct and wise. Inter- 
est sharpens the understanding for its own service ; and when 
questions of profit and loss have been determined b}- the best 
minds of a communit}^ according to the teachings of experi- 
ence and in a way satisfactory^ to all, we can depend confidently 
on the result. The customs of a country, though sometimes 
ridiculous in the eyes of strangers, are generally just what that 
country needs. Travellers bear witness to the sagacity with 
which, the modes of business even of barbarous tribes are 
adapted to their rude condition. The following is an extract 
from Dr. Livingstone's account of the Bakwains, who live in 
the interior of Africa. " In general," he says, " the}' were slow, 
like all African people hereafter to be described, in coming to a 
decision on religious subjects ; but in questions aflfecting their 
worldly affairs they were keenly alive to their own interests. 
They might be called stupid in matters which had not come 
within the sphere of their observation, but in other things they 
showed more intelligence than is to be met with in our own 
uneducated peasantry. The}^ are remarkably accurate in their 
knowledge of cattle, sheep, and goats, knowing exactl}^ the 
kind of pasturage suited to each ; and they select with great 
judgment the varieties of soil best suited to different kinds of 
grain. The}^ are also familiar with the habits of wild animals, 
and, in general, are well up in the maxims which embody their 
ideas of political wisdom." Public opinion^ also, shoidd have 
considerable weight in moral discussions ; though, on account 
of various disturbing causes, it is not so reliable as in cases of 
interest. In consulting it on a question of duty we should 
especially inquire whether the conviction be not only general, 
but also deliberate, disinterested, and enlightened. But, clearly, 
those rules of right conduct which all men everj'where approve 
and uphold must be founded on good reasons. 



14 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. 11. 

In general, we may say that the farther questions are re- 
moved from facts of common observation, or from those more 
evident laws which are little more than the generalization of 
such facts, the less we can rel}^ upon the utterances of the com- 
mon voice. Hence the necessity, when appealing to what has 
been called "the common sense" of men, of distinguishing 
between the perception of phenomena and the explanation of 
them. All men ever}- where know of the existence of the sun, 
moon, and stars, and of their daily and nightly appearance and 
disappearance. Their testimon}' as to the existence of these 
phenomena is reliable. But their judgment regarding the size 
of the heavenly bodies, and as to the nature of their motions, 
ma}" be questioned. All men once believed that the sun re- 
volved around our earth. 

Those who can accept the views now expressed regarding 
the convictions of the generality of mankind will probably ap- 
prove of views, somewhat corresponding to them, concerning 
the 02nnions of scientific men. We cannot join with those who 
despise philosophers as dreamers and theorizers, and who boast 
" common sense " and " experience" as their onlj' guides. The 
vain self-sufficienc}' of such persons should be humbled by the 
consideration that almost all the great elements of modern 
civilization are the offspring of philosophy' and science. The 
implements, the inventions, the usages and laws, the ideas and 
institutions, which distinguish us from savages, once were the 
property of only a few thinking men. The material, moral, and 
political progress of the world depends, under God, on its men 
of thought and learning. While, therefore, the philosopher is 
no greater authority in matters of fact than his fellow-men, 
and while his practical judgment is often inferior to that of 
men in active life, his opinions concerning those questions which 
he investigates are not to be lightly rejected ; and any general 
agreement in the world of philosoph}^ is a ver}^ weighty pre- 
sumption, indeed, either for or against a doctrine. 

Who now questions the Newtonian theor}" of the solar system ? 
Who doubts the ordinary analyses of chemistrj'', or statements 
of geolog}'? And who rejects the explanation of sense-percep- 
tion, of dreams and fantasies, of general notions, and of the 
reasoning process, given by psychology ? It is true that even 
the weightiest of human opinions have only a provisional au- 
thority, and that no one who can investigate for himself should 
accept, without examination, the statements of others. But 
for many this is impossible : they are otherwise and fully oc- 
cupied ; their talent lies in some other direction, or the means 
of research are not at their command. 



Chap. III.] PRIMARY CLASSIFICATIONS. 15 

Besides, a knowledge of the achievements, and even of the 
failures, of preceding laborers is indispensable to those who 
would carry on a work which has alread}^ been begun ; so that 
the philosopher himself, who seeks for independence and origi- 
nality of view, must study with care the efforts of his predeces- 
sors. If he do not, in all probability he will neither avoid their 
mistakes nor equal their attainments. 



CHAPTER III. 
PKIMARY CLASSIFICATIONS. 

1. Objects which possess a common nature may be variously 
classified according to their agreement and difference in some 
one or other important respect. This may belong either to their 
internal constitution or to their external relations. Thus man- 
kind maj^ be classified according to race, or language, or country, 
or degree of enlightenment, or religious creed, or sex, or age, 
or occupation. Such classifications are called logical divisions ; 
and they contribute greatly to clear, systematic, and compre- 
hensive thought. The study of mental philosophy naturally com- 
mences with some such distinctions. First, let us divide the 
powers of the souU so as to separate and distinguish the intel- 
lect from the other powers, and, after that, let us divide the pow- 
ers of the intellect^ so that each of these maj^ receive its due 
attention. 

The old division of psychical powers into the understanding 
and the will was that emplo3'ed b}^ the philosophers and theolo- 
gians of the Middle Ages, and perhaps served sufficiently well 
for their peculiar discussions. Our earlier English writers, also, 
whose attention was devoted chiefly to the intellectual powers, 
contented themselves with this division. Locke did so ; and 
Reid, the illustrious founder of the Scotch school of philosophy 
(he lectured in Glasgow during the middle of the eighteenth 
century), expresses himself thus: "There never has been any 
division of the powers of the mind proposed which is not liable 
to considerable objections. We shall therefore take that gen- 
eral diAasion which is most common, — into the powers of under- 
standing and those of will." But afterwards, in his second essay 
on the will, he condemns this division. "Some philosophers," 
he says, " represent desire, aversion, hope, fear, J03', sorrow, 
all our appetites, passions, and affections as diflferent modifica- 
tions of the will, which I think tends to confound things which 



16 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. III. 

are verj^ different ; " and he remarks that things which have not 
a common nature should not be confounded under one name. 

The dissatisfaction thus expressed, being generall}' felt, re- 
sulted in that threefold division which is now commonly made. 
" Our conscious acts or states," says Dr. Porter, '' are separated 
into the three broad and general divisions of states of knowl- 
edge, states of feeling, and states of will. To know, to feel, and 
to choose are the most obviously distinguishable states of the 
soul. These are referred to three powers, or faculties, which are 
designated as the intellect, the sensibility, and the will. This 
threefold division is now universall}^ adopted b}- those who accept 
any division or doctrine of faculties." 

Objections Nevertheless, for several reasons, we cannot regard 
to tbe com- tMs threefold division as sufficient and satisfactor3\ 
ion? 1.*^ No ' First of all, it seems a serious defect that no separate 
^Se for the P^^^® ^^ allowed iu it for the power of sensation, and 
power of that on this account the discussion of the subject of 
sense. sense is made to fall under the head of intellect. 

The former of these powers presents objects to the latter, and 
contributes a stimulus to its exercise ; but they are radically 
different from each other. The treatment of them together, un- 
der the same division of thought, favors the materialistic doctrine 
that intellect is but a modification or development of sense. 

Sensation is essentially diverse also from that emotional feel- 
ing which the perception or remembrance of objects often ex- 
cites ; although, we think, it might as well be classified with 
emotion as with intellect. It differs greatl}^ and perhaps 
equally, from both ; and if this be so, ought not sense to 
be reckoned an independent power? 

Secondl}', this division makes no distinct place for 
no?suffi-^*^^ desire, or, using a more comprehensive term, for that 
cientiy dis- motivity by reason of the exercise of which the spirit 
from einV of man secks various ends. The motivities consti- 
onJhiVd^ tute a marked and important class of p3'schical phe- 
or from ex- uomcua ; they include the instincts and appetites, the 
the other, propensities and passions, the aflfections, and such 
active principles as self-interest, public spirit, rational 
benevolence, a sense of dut}^ or of justice, and the love of what 
is right and good. Some authors, as Drs. Upham and Haven, 
place inotive tendencies and emoHo7is together under the head 
of "sensibilities." Sir William Hamilton, on the other hand, 
unites will and desire together as the third grand division of 
spiritual life, and calls them "the exertive faculties." Were a 
choice necessar}', we would rather classify motivitj' with will 
than with the emotional power ; and to this last, exclusively, we 



Chap. III.] PRIMARY CLASSIFICATIONS. 17 

would assign the term " sensibilitj'-." But we prefer to consider 
desire, or motivit}', as itself an elementary power, which should 
be distinguished from ever}^ other. 

3. The will This leads to a third objection. The threefold di- 
siiouid not vision is professedly a generic classification of our 
as a^lfmp^ie powci's, uot as thcsc cxist and operate in combination, 
power. Y)\]it as they are seen after an ultimate analysis. In 

other words, it is given to represent only simple and undefinable 
elements of our conscious spiritual life. Now, with Brown 
and Hamilton and other older metaphysicians, we believe that 
there is something in volition of the nature of motive tendency. 
At the same time we hold that volition contains more than mo- 
tivity ; that it is a combination of intellect and motivity under 
special and modifying conditions. For this reason we cannot 
regard volition as being a simple and fundamental power, nor 
even as being a specific form of such a power. Intellect com- 
prehends sense-perception, consciousness, memor}^ reasoning, 
imagination, and so forth, but cannot include volition, deter- 
mination, or purpose, because, although these last contain an 
intellectual element, they have also, essentiall}-, a quality not 
Intellectual. In like manner, motivity may be divided into appe- 
tite, propensity, affection, self-interest, public spirit, and so on, 
but must be separated from decisions, intentions, and resolu- 
tions, because these are characterized by a peculiar exercise 
of the intellect which distinguishes them from mere motivities. 
Therefore we incline to exclude the will from our radical di- 
vision of psychical powers, and to treat it as a complex faculty. 
Yet, if any hold fast to the belief that the will is a simple power, 
and in its essential part incapable of analysis, this view also 
leads to a more than threefold division ; for, after sensation, 
Intellect, emotion, and motivit3% volition would come as the 
fifth radical mode of conscious life. 

4 The die Again, wc object to the common classification that 
tinctive it does uot recogiiize, as a fundamental power, what 
exerSon^or ^^J ^® Called the faculty of exertion, or of action ; 
action, over- for evciT exertion is an action when it is successful 
in accomplishing some result. This power is generally 
included under that of will. Dr. Haven thus describes "the 
third form of mental activity : " " Thought and feeling lead to 
action. I resolve what to do. I lay down m}' book, and go forth 
to perform some act prompted by the emotion awakened within 
me. This power also I have; the facult}^ of voluntary action, 
or volition." But we distinguish easily the volition, or determi- 
nation to act, from the action which we resolve and purpose to 
do. Intentions and deeds are things radically diverse. 

2 



18 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap, m 

The language of Reid applies here : ' ' Things that have no 
common nature ought not to be confounded under one name, 
or represented as different modifications of the same thing." 
Therefore, among the simple powers of the soul, we would 
place that of action, or of exertion ; or, to use terms of Hamil- 
ton's, the exertive, or conative, faculty. But it should be 
stated that while Hamilton employs this language, he does 
not specifj' an}' such power as that now mentioned. He 
rather identifies desire, volition, and conation, as to their 
essential nature, by making them the manifestations of the 
same general power. In our view, these activities, though 
closely connected with each other, differ radically as to their 
internal character. 
_ rj,. Our concluding objection has reference to the phe- 

5. The ca- ^ij- j t. j.x. 

pabiiityof nomena of pleasure and pam, and to the power or 
and oTpain Capability wMch the mind has of experiencing these 
should be^ phenomena. This power has no proper place in the 
as^a^fimda- commou divisiou. It is true that pleasure and pain 
^ower^ have not so independent an existence as the other ac- 
tivities of mind. Happiness is a kind of aroma which 
accompanies a well-ordered and well-sustained life ; misery is 
the effluvium of an ill-regulated life. Nevertheless, these phe- 
nomena should be distinguished from those which they attend, 
and especially from those to which they are most intimately 
related. We object to Hamilton's classification of them with 
our emotions or sensibilities. The pleasure or pain of an emo- 
tion should be distinguished from the emotion itself, just as the 
pleasure or pain of a sensation should be distinguished from the 
sensation itself. In short, these subtile concomitant modes of 
experience arise not onty from our sensations and emotions, 
but also from our thinkings, desires, volitions, and actions ; 
that is, they flow from, and attend, every mode of psychical 
activity. If, then, we distinguish the experiences of sense and 
thought, of motive feeling and of exertion, from their attendant 
pleasures and pains, we certainly should make a similar distinc- 
tion with reference to emotion. 

No investigation of ps^^chology is more interesting than that 
which, commencing with pleasures and pains, goes on to seek 
the general nature and causes of happiness and misery ; and 
perhaps none as yet is so undeveloped. Some theories have 
been proposed to solve its questions, but no doctrine has 
secured general approbation. The distinction of pleasure and 
pain from other phenomena, and the recognition of them as hav- 
ing a nature and laws of their own, are plainlj^ a necessary con- 
dition of progress in this important philosophical inquiry. 



CHAP.m.] PRIMARY CLASSIFICATIONS. 19 

A new di- ^* ^^ ^he foregoing objections be well founded, they 
vision pro- call for a new enumeration of the fundamental powers 
posed. ^^ ^^^^ so\\\. We propose the following sixfold di- 

vision : first, sensation, or sense ; secondly, thought, or intellect ; 
thirdl}^ emotion, or sensibility ; fourthly, desire, or motivity ; 
fifthly, exertion, or conation ; and sixthl}^, the capability of 
pleasure and pain. Each of these powers has characteristics 
of its own. For example, sense is distinguished b}' its peculiar 
and inherent dependence upon material excitants and bodily 
organs. Intellect is the most prominent faculty of spirit, and 
is the condition of all psychical life, save that of sense only. 
Emotion is a psychical excitement produced by the perception 
or thought of some object, and has a correspondence to the na- 
ture of the object. Motivity is a more active principle than 
emotion, and is always a tendenc}' towards some end. Exer- 
tion, or action, is an ability in the exercise of which the soul 
voluntarily uses the mental and phj^sical powers at her com- 
mand. And the capabilit}^ of pleasure and pain is manifested 
in that peculiar experience, or element of experience, which, 
under laws of its own, accompanies all the different forms of 
ps3xhical activity. 

r it of ^"^ here, in order to avoid misconception, let us 
powe?sdoes remark that neither the foregoing nor any other 
separate-^^ division of psychical powers conflicts with the doc- 
ness of trine of the unity of the soul, or involves the idea that 
^*'^*^* a spirit is composed of parts. Our activities not only 

belong to the one e^o, or self, but they mingle and blend in the 
formation of one complex life. They neither exist nor operate 
separately' ; it is onl}' through philosophical analysis that they 
can be separatel}^ thought of As a glassful of water may have 
weight, fluidit}^ incompressibihty, transparency, temperature, 
and other qualities, without being thereby divided into parts, 
so the possession of diverse powers is consistent with the fact 
that the soul is a yet more perfect unit than any material body 
is, or can be. 

Three divis- ^' having divided the powers of the soul in general, 
ions: 1. The wc tum to the divisiou of the intellect. The ends of 
?he"second-^ our stud}' now require that we should make, not merely 
ary powers one, but three classifications. 

First, we divide our mental powers into the pri- 
mary and the secondary. This division refers to the natural 
order of the operation of these powers. We say that thought 
and belief are the primary powers^ because in their exercise 
intellect accomplishes its ultimate work, that which alone gives 
importance to all the rest. And we call attention., acquisition^ 



20 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. III. 

association^ synthesis^ analysis, abstraction, and generalization, 
secondary powers, because their working is simplj' to modify the 
operation of the primary powers, and has all its consequence 
from this fact. Thought and belief, no less than thought, are 
concerned with things, objects ; whereas the other powers are 
essentially subjective in their operations, and cause certain modi- 
fications in our ideas and beliefs. 

The distinction between conception and conviction, between 
thought and belief, is clearh' marked in the speech and conscious- 
ness of men, and is of the utmost importance in philosophy. 
2 The three '^ sccond division of intellect has reference to the 
phases of modc of the formation of mental states ; and it sets 
mteUect. forth several complex phases of intellectual life, and 
the capabilities, or faculties, of which these phases are tlie mani- 
festation. This division does not arise from so searching an 
anah'sis as that just mentioned. It recognizes the fact that 
certain manifestations of thought and of belief result from cer- 
tain general causes ; and it leads to the study of the forms of 
intellectual activity thus produced. These phases are three in 
number, and ma}" be st3ied the perceptive, or presentational; 
the reproductive, or re-p)resentational ; and the discursive, or 
rational, phases of intellect. Both thought and belief are exer- 
cised under each of these modes of intellect ; as are also, though 
in different degrees, the various secondar}" powers of mind. 

The perceptive phase of mental life originates in, and is char- 
acterized by, the immediate cognition of objects. It is sub- 
di^aded into sense-perception, consciousness, and concomitant 
perception ; this last signifying that cognition of relations and the 
fundamenta of relations, which, without being included in sense- 
perception and consciousness, is exercised in connection with 
them. 

The rep)roductive phase arises from the repetition or reproduc- 
tion, bj" the mind, of the ideas and beliefs of immediate cognition. 
Its principal forms are the memory, the fantasy, and the imagi- 
nation. The law according to which our thoughts are reproduced, 
in whole or in part, is called the law of the association of ideas. 

The essential and distinguishing mark of the rational phase of 
intellect is the exercise of a peculiar degree of penetration and 
of comprehension. This results from a higher degree of mental 
power than is possessed by irrational creatures, and is manifested, 
first, in the precise and thorough cognition and understanding of 
things, especial!}" of relations and consequences, and, secondl}', in 
connected logical thinking, or, as it has been named, the " dis- 
course of mind." This second mode of reason differs from the 
first only in being more deliberate and consecutive : it produces 



Chap. III.] PRIMARY CLASSIFICATIONS. 21 

the notion^ the judgment^ and the inference^ which^ as forms of 
rational thought., are discussed iji logic / for it is onl}^ as de- 
veloped modes of mental action that notions, judgments, and 
inferences speciall}^ belong to the rational phase, or faculty. 

A third radical distinction in intellect finds its 
tionafaud"^ ./^^^^^^^^^i^^^ divisionis, OY principle of division, 
experiential i^ the character of our convictions. It is commonly 
conviction indicated by the twofold division of the elements of 
ceptiou^^"' ^^^ belief — and also of the elements of our thought — 
into the intuitional and the experiential. 
So far as a piece of knowledge or information is merely 
historical or matter of fact, it may be called experiential, be- 
cause it sets forth something that can be originally known 
only through experience, or the direct cognition of the actual. 
For example, it is an experiential conviction that there is such 
a city as New York, and that it contains one million of English- 
speaking inhabitants. But a conviction which sets forth a thing 
as necessary or as possible asserts something different from 
the mere matter of fact. We now sa}^ that something must be, 
or ma}^ be, because something else is known to be ; and so we 
introduce the necessary relations of existence, and what are 
called our necessary beliefs. Thus it is necessar}" that New 
York, being a large cit}', should not only be located somewhere, 
but should also occupy a considerable territory ; and it is con- 
ceivable or possible that its inhabitants, being all human beings, 
should learn to speak some other language than English. Again, 
it is an experiential judgment that I am now writing with a pen, 
but it is a necessary judgment that I must use some instrument 
in order to write, or that I might use a pencil instead of a pen ; 
for, from the nature of the case, one of these things is neces- 
sar}^ and the other possible. 

Judgments of possibility ma}", of course, be dis- 
perceived^ tingulshcd from those of necessity, but for our pres- 
intuition- eut purposc wc must regard both as "necessary" 
^ ^' judgments ; and this, too, in a peculiar sense. In 

one sense all beliefs are necessary ; the}' are the inevitable re- 
sult of the exercise of certain faculties. Now, however, we 
speak of those convictions which are not mere perceptions of 
fact, but which, being based on a consideration of the necessary 
relations of things, assert this or that to be necessaril}' true. In 
this sense a postulate, which asserts a thing to be possible, is a 
necessarj' judgment no less than an axiom, w^hich asserts a thing 
to be necessary. Though philosophers differ as to the ultimate 
origin and ground of these necessary convictions, it is quite 
evident that we constantly form and use them. 



22 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. UL 

That school which teaches that our first cognitions of the 
necessit}^ and of the possibility of the existence of things are 
direct and reliable perceptions, are called Intuitionalists, because 
they believe in a direct intuition of necessar}^ truth. We pre- 
fer their doctrine especially to that of the Associationalists, who 
do not make a sufficient difference between the assertion of a 
necessary consequence and a mere historical statement. 

As we have direct cognition of matters of fact, as well as of 
things necessar}^ there ma^' be a question as to the propriety 
of confining the term " intuition" to the immediate perception of 
necessary truth. But language has been employed in this way ; 
so that now an intuitional, especially as contrasted with an 
experiential, perception signifies the immediate cognition of 
some truth or fact as necessary. 

The distinction between intuitional and experiential judg- 
ments or cognitions is not a difficult one. Even when we recog- 
nize something both to be fact and to be necessary fact, we can 
easily separate the two elements of comdction. Letting a bullet 
fall to the floor, we perceive both the fact of the fall, and that it 
falls necessarily, by reason of some cause. In like manner we 
can see, simply as facts, that two bullets are equal in weight to 
each other, and that each of them is equal in weight to a third 
bullet ; and we can also see that the two bullets, being each 
equal to a third bullet in weight, must be equal in weight to 
each other. 

The onto- There is, however, another distinction, closely re- 
logicai and latcd to the forcgoing, which cannot be understood 
cafe^SiSnts without carcful consideration. It does not pertain to 
of concep- our convictions directly, but to our ideas or concept 
tions as these are employed in our convictions. 
When we examine any historical or merely matter-of-fact state- 
ment, we find that our belief in the truth of it is not specially 
connected with any one part of its thought more than another, 
but, on the contrary, is related alike to the whole thought. Such 
is the case when we simpl}^ perceive the weight and fall of the 
bullet, or when we see that three groups of three bullets each 
are, simply as a matter of fact, equal in number to a single group 
of nine bullets. When, however, we examine any specific state- 
ment that is necessarily true, — that is, which sets forth some- 
thing as existing necessaril}^ or possibly, — we discover that its 
peculiar force does not arise in connection loith the whole of our 
thought, but only in connection with a certain portion of it. 
When we say that the unsupported bullet must fall because of 
its weight, the force of this statement does not depend on the 
special nature of the bullet and its weight, but on the fact that 



Chap. III.] PRIMARY CLASSIFICATIONS. 23 

the leaden ball is a substance endowed with a certain power ^ or 
tendency', and on the general principle that any substance en- 
dowed with any tendency necessarily exerts that tendency under 
conditions which may he ascertained. In other words, we see 
that power, under proper conditions, must operate. And, see- 
ing the bullet fall a second time, we not only perceive that a 
similar event has occurred, but we say that it must have oc- 
curred, on the general principle that substances exert their 
potencies in the same way under a repetition of the same con- 
ditions. In short, analysis shows that these judgments concern- 
ing the necessary fall of bullets do not depend for their peculiar 
force on the whole nature of the objects considered, but onlj^ on 
the character of the objects as substances endowed with tenden- 
cies to certain fixed modes of operation. So, also, when we say 
that three given groups of bullets of three each are necessarily 
equal to a single group of nine, this does not depend on the 
fact that they are leaden balls, but only on the fact that they 
are individual things ; for any three groups of three things 
each would be collectively equal to a group of nine. Such being 
the case, it is possible to discard from specific statements of 
necessity those elements of thought on which their necessity 
does not depend ; accordingly, in this wa}^ the axioms and pos- 
tulates of algebra and geometry and the other sciences have 
been formulated. 

Now, when the conceptions employed in these general modes 
of necessary conviction are examined, they are found to be com- 
paratively few and simple. They are such thoughts as those 
of existence and non-existence, of necessity and possibility, of 
space, time, quantity, and relations, of substance, power, action, 
and alteration. It is observed, too, that although these abstract 
ideas are themselves distinct notions, yet, with reference to our 
ordinary thinkings, the}^ may be styled elements of thought^ 
because they enter into the composition of all our ordinary con- 
ceptions. And the remaining portions of our ideas ma}^ still 
more appropriately be named elements, because we never natu- 
rally employ them in abstract and separate thought, but use 
them in their combination with those few fundamental concep- 
tions which relate immediately to the general nature and laws of 
being. 

Those parts of our thinking on which our necessitudinal, or 
intuitional, convictions depend might be stj-led, collectively, the 
intuitional element of thought ; while the remaining parts, 
taken together, might be called the experiential element. 

But we should note that this distinction is not coiiicident 
with that between intuitional and experiential beliefs or convic- 



24 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. IV. 

tions ; for an intuitional conviction, though it does not depend 
on experiential thought, can make use of it, as in the case of 
the necessary fall of the bullet ; and experiential convictions, 
likewise, use those elements of conception on which the force of 
intuitions depends, as well as those whose employment in asser- 
tions depends peculiarly on experience. This may be seen in 
illustrations similar to those which have been given. 



CHAPTER IV. 

SENSE AND ITS RELATIONS. 

The word 1- The word " scusc," being derived from the 

"sense," Latin sentio., originally signified either feeling or 
the perception that accompanies feeling. The latter meaning 
appears in such expressions as a sense of danger or of impro- 
priety, and when we speak of a sensible man, or of a man of 
good sense. In modern psychologj^, however, this term, when 
used alone, has generally been confined in its application to our 
bodily feelings^ as distinguished from the perceptions formed in 
connection with them. Moreover, as the word "sensation" 
indicates the exercise of these feelings, the name " sense" may 
very property be restricted to our power of having them. 

When sensations are styled bodily feelings, the 
psyJhi?ai expression refers to their som-ce rather than to their 
power, and nature ; for the power of sense belongs to the soul, 
sui generis. ^^^ ^^^ ^^ ^^^^ body. As the soul uscs the organs of 
locomotion, but is diflferent from them, so it is aflfected by the 
organs of sense, and is different from them. Sensation, it is 
true, belongs to the soul only as embodied; it is conditioned 
upon certain corporeal or nervous changes, but it is to be distin- 
guished from these changes. In itself, it is purely psychical. 

This power is not to be confounded with any other power 
of the exercise of which our spirits are conscious. Especially 
we should observe that sense is not intellect. Sensation and 
thought are things radically unlike. Who cannot distinguish 
the pain of a cut finger or a burnt hand from the thought of 
these things, or the satisfaction of a refreshing draught or a 
comfortable meal from the mere conception of these objects as 
matters of unrealized desire? Therefore, separating sensation 
on the one hand from corporeal affections, we separate it on the 
other from all the higher activities of spirit. 



Chap. IV.] SENSE AND ITS RELATIONS. 25 



The rela- 



2. Although sense is radically diverse from intel- 
Uons'or' lect, it has intimate relations with the latter power. 
inteUect: ^^^ ^^^ ^^'^^ place, sensation, or the exercise of sense, 

1. Tiie ' is a natural excitant and occasion of the exercise 
excitant. ^^ intellect. As the power of ignition and illumina- 
tion which resides in the lucifer match is called into exercise 
by that rough rubbing which is followed b}' the flash of light, 
so the soul, on the occasion of the coarse experience of sense, 
awakens to the higher experience of thought. The opinion, 
too, seems well founded that our first intellectual activity is 
excited bj^ the first sensations of the infant spirit. These views 
were well expressed by Patricius (an old writer, quoted b}^ Ham- 
ilton), when he called the senses the "exordium," or starting- 
point, of knowledge. " Cognitio omnis," he says, ''a mente 
primam originem; a sensibus exordium habet primum." 

2. The Ob- But sensation is more than the excitant of thought ; 
ject. it is also, and at the same time, an important ob- 
ject of thought. For the mind, while perceiving its own sen- 
sations, is gifted besides with the power of perceiving certain 
relations and correlates of these sensations ; and this is the 
origin of our knowledge of the external world. The intellect, 
acting upon and in conjunction with the experiences of sense, 
discerns the existence and the nature of material objects, and 
so from small beginnings ascends to the contemplation of the 
universe. The discussion of the relation of our knowledge of 
our own sensations to our knowledge of the material creation 
forms an important chapter in the philosophy of mind. 

3. The in- Fiuallj', the power of sense is employed by the in- 
strunieut. tellcct as an instrument of inquiry and of guidance. 
We increase our knowledge of material existences through 
the intelligent use of the senses ; and we direct our bodily 
actions by the information obtained through them. The high- 
est of the physical sciences, such as geology and astronomy, 
are dependent on sensation for the ascertainment of their 
facts ; and the most exquisite of the arts, such as painting, 
music, and sculpture, seek guidance for their delicate move- 
ments from the same source. Bj^ sense also we are qualified 
for the ennobling faculty of speech. 

Because of these several functions — as the excitant, as the 
object, and as the instrument of intellectual activit}^ — the power 
of sensation has always occupied a prominent place in discus- 
sions concerning thought. 

Sense de- Sense is a simple power, — that is, it is distin- 
lined. guished from our other psychical endowments by 
an incomplex peculiarity ; therefore also, like intellect, it does 



26 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. IV. 

not admit of anal3'tical definition. Yet every important con- 
ception in philosophy, however simple it may be and incapa- 
ble of description, can and should be determined circumstan- 
tially^ or by means of its more promineyit relations. If a 
number of balls hung in air, each of which was precisely simi- 
lar to the others in size and shape, but possessed of a shade 
of color peculiar and unlike any color to be found elsewhere, 
we could not describe these balls severally to one who had 
never seen thetn. But we might determine the bearings of 
each ball from various fixed points of observation, and in this 
way we could indicate the place of its existence, and make it 
the object of intelhgent apprehension. So it is not suflScient 
to say that such or such an object, being simple, cannot be 
defined : we should endeavor to show its distinguishing rela- 
tions. This mode of defining, or, more strictly speaking, of 
determining, a conception is equally satisfactory, and should 
be considered equally logical, with that which results from 
anal3'sis. It suflEiciently defines sense to say that it is a power 
the exercise of which is immediatelj^ consequent upon a cor- 
poreal affection, and which, though not thought, is related to 
thought, as has been alread}' described. 

Sense di- Commonly we hear of five senses, ■ — taste, smell, 
Tided. hearing, touch, and sight. Philosophical discrimi- 
nation adds to these at least two others, — the organic and 
the muscular. The marked peculiarity of the five first-named 
is, that their bodil}^ organs, being evidentl}^ constructed for their 
use, are easily perceived and distinguished. 

Muscular feelings are those internally accompanying muscular 
movements. They are the least varied of all, but they admit 
of a delicate mental estimate of the quantity of sensation ; and 
this enables us to measure the amount of muscular power 
employed or of phj'sical force counteracted. The sensations 
experienced in one's opening his fingers or raising his hand, in 
lifting a weight or stopping a moving bod}^, in resisting the 
flow of a stream of water or the violence of an excited animal, 
in exerting one's self in any physical labor, — in short, all 
sensations of corporeal efibrt and opposition, — belong to this 
class. 

On the other hand, our organic sensations^ which are those 
connected with our various bodily functions other than that of 
muscular movement, contain many specific classes. The}^ and 
indeed all our corporeal feelings, may be divided into the ordi- 
nary and the extraordinary^ — that is, those experienced during 
bodily soundness and health and those felt during bodily injury 
or disease. Some of them are more localized than others. 



Chap. IV.] SENSE AND ITS RELATIONS. 27 

Hunger, thirst, sleepiness, weariness, aches, pains, and the 
various feelings of sickness, together with the pleasant sensa- 
tions experienced when we are relieved of any suffering or dis- 
tress, are forms of organic sensation. To these we may add 
the feelings of heat and cold, and that of pressure, as when the 
hand lies on a table beneath a weight. As some of these expe- 
riences take place throughout the whole bod3% while no set of 
nerves is known to be speciallj' devoted to their production, 
every part of the sensory S3'stem alike may be regarded as their 
organ ; but this is pre-eminently true of those feelings of exhil- 
aration and of depression resulting from bodily vigor or debilit3\ 
The famous orator Charles James Fox, as he inhaled the morn- 
ing air and looked abroad on the freshness of Nature, was wont 
to exclaim, " What a glorious thing it is to live ! " And these 
words seem to have been chiefly prompted by a sense of that 
exuberant vitality and vigor which pervaded the bodilj' organi- 
zation of that great man. 

The " sen- If the foregoing statements be correct, it is evi- 
sorium." dent that the power of sense is diffused through- 
out the whole body. Some bodilv growths, it is true, — as 
the hair, the nails, the outer cuticle, and part of the bones, — 
are void of sensation. But these are a small fraction of our 
physical person, and, through sensations of the adjacent and 
surrounding portions, they are brought practically within the 
sphere of sense. Ever}^ other part of the body is so minutely 
pervaded with muscular and organic sensations that the power 
of sense may be said to occupy our whole frame. 

The bod3', thus considered as the place throughout whose limits 
the soul is sentient, is called the " sensorium." This term, 
formed after the analogy of " dormitorium," '' oratorium," and 
such words, which mean the places of sleeping, of prayer, and 
of other uses, signifies the jjlace, or local organ, of sensation. 
More correctly speaking, that S3'stem of sensitive nerves, cen- 
tring in the brain and minutel3' pervading the bod3% should be 
styled the sensorium ; for we have no feehng save so far as some 
nerve may be touched or excited, and the destruction or paral3'- 
sis of a nerve destroys also the possibilit3^ of the sensation 
connected with it. 

Theimme- ^' This brings US to consider the cause or imme- 
diate cause diate condition of the exercise of the power of sense. 

sensation. j^Q^^g before the discoveries of anatomy, men knew 
that sensations resulted from affections of the bod3'. The soul 
by an immediate perception attributes sensation to itself; but 
it perceives also that ever3^ sensation is occasioned by some- 
thing not itself. When one's finger is burned, or even when one 



28 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. IV. 

suffers toothache, he needs no proof that he himself feels the 
pain, and he also is able to understand that the scorching fire 
or the decaying tooth is the cause of his experience ; for in all 
such cases we lind no occasion for the sensation in the preced- 
ing experience of the soul, 3'et we know that it must have some 
cause. Looknig for this elsewhere, and discerning the peculiar 
affections of each bodil}^ part, we soon find in these the inva- 
riable and necessary antecedents, and therefore also regard them 
as the occasions or causes of our sensations. 

We are assisted, moreover, to this conclusion b}' a peculiar 
power of judgment whereb\^ the mind discerns the place of its 
sensations as existing with reference to each other in different 
parts of the sensorium. We naturally look for the cause where 
we may have found the effect. Hence we unhesitatingly place 
the experience, and the occasion, of the sensation of sight in 
the e3'e, those of the sensation of smell in the nostrils, those 
of hearing in the ear, and those of touch in the hands and in 
other parts of the surface of the bod3\ We also confidently 
locate a headache or toothache or other internal pain, and ascribe 
it to some local corporeal affection. 

The nature Anatomical researches have thrown much light on 
of nervous this subjcct. They show that a certain class of nerves 
known. ^^" <^^^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^f t^ose hodilxj affections which produce 
sensation. Moreover, inasmuch as all phj'sical changes 
appear to involve motion, the opinion seems reasonable that 
motion of some kind is produced in the nerves by the action of 
their appropriate excitants ; and that this motion, in some way, 
is the occasion of sensation. But nothing has ever been deter- 
mined as to the nature of this motion, nor, indeed, as to any ele- 
ment of that physical change which must precede the ps3xhical 
experience. Those theories which speak of the movements of a 
subtile fluid, of the vibration of fibres or filaments, and of the 
action of molecules, must be regarded as merely" scientific con- 
jectures. The general and important fact, however, is beyond 
question that the cause of sensation is in the nerves. 
The saying ^^ ^^ ^^^^ clcar that some physical body or agent 
of Democ- must dircctl}" or indirectly affect our nerves before 
sensation can take place. The senses of sight and 
hearing present no exception to this statement, although their 
less immediate but more noticeable objects may be at a dis- 
tance. The vibrations of light affect the optic nerve, and those 
of a sonoriferous medium the auricular, before we hear or see. 
This truth, centuries ago and in the infanc}' of philosophy, was 
emphasized by Democritus ; at a time, too, when his statement 
must have appeared paradoxical. " All the senses^'' said he, 



Chap. IV.] SENSE AND ITS RELATIONS. 29 

" are but modifications of touch^^'' — a statement which cannot 
be accepted literal!}^, 3'et is true in this modified sense, that some 
ph3'sical agent must affect some nerve before any sensation can 
be experienced. If there be an}^ exception to the law thus an- 
nounced, it is an exception which confirms the rule. 
Speculative The doctrine that sensation is the result of nervous 
difficulties, actiou ma^^ seem too simple and evident to have ever 
been the occasion of difficulty. Yet perhaps no questions have 
more perplexed philosophers than those relating to the causal 
connection between body and soul. " Has matter any povier to 
affect 7nindf'' " Has mind any poioer to affect matter?'' are 
inquiries over which able thinkers have been sorely tried. The 
principal obstacles which have prevented many from a perception 
of the truth have been two speculative convictions which have 
prevailed extensively. 

The first First, it has been held that material objects can 

diflacuity. come into contact only with material objects. In the 
words of the ancient poet, 

" Tangere enira et tangi, nisi corpus, nulla potest res." 

We accept this utterance as probably true in the sense that 
matter cannot affect mind in the same way as it affects other 
matter. In this sense a spirit is intangible. The properties 
of mind, so far as we know them, are so different from those of 
body, so far as we know them, that it would be unreasonable 
to suppose that the latter could affect the former just as it would 
a substance of its own nature. If either can operate on the 
other, we must expect the result to be quite different from any 
affection properly incident to the nature of the operating agent ; 
for when two objects are diverse in character, the}^ are inca- 
pable, to the extent of that diversity, of being acted upon in 
the same wa}^ 

Therefore we hold that matter cannot come into collision with 
spirit as it can loith other matter. We would as soon expect a 
collision between the atmosphere which surrounds our globe and 
the light of day which pervades the atmosphere. Spirit cannot 
be touched as we touch material objects with our hands. At 
the same time it seems evident that mind can be placed to a 
considerable extent under the operation of a material bod3^ 
The soul during the present life dwells within the bod}^ ; wher- 
ever the latter may be conve3^ed or confined, there the former is 
carried and imprisoned likewise. If the body can thus enclose 
the spirit, and bear it wherever it may itself be borne, may it 
not also in other ways affect its inhabitant? Indeed, has not 
the common sense of men good reason to affirm that it does ? 



80 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. IV. 

The second The secoiid convictioii from which speculative dif- 
diiiicuity. ficultics havc resulted, refers, not to the general na- 
ture of spirit, but to a specific characteristic. It is held that 
the soul is unextended^ and we are asked, "How can matter, 
the extended substance, have any causal connection with mind, 
a substance devoid of extension ? " The argument runs tlms : 
' ^ Nothing can touch and be touched but what is extended ; and 
if the soul be unextended, it can have no connection bj^ touch 
with the body : the ph3'sical influence, therefore, is inconceivable 
and impossible." This reasoning, in which, however, the word 
" touch " signifies merely juxtaposition in space, implies the truth 
of two statements : first, that an unextended substance cannot 
afl"ect, or be afl'ected by, an extended substance ; and secondly, 
that the soul is an unextended substance. 

The first of these statements, we think, may be accepted as 
correct, if b}" an unextended substance we mean one which does 
not in any way pervade or occup}^ space ; for a substance which 
absolutely' does not occupy or pervade an}^ portion of space is 
inconceivable. We may conceive of a substance pervading 
space in such a way as not to interfere with the occupanc}' of the 
same space hy other substances of a coarser nature ; but no 
substance could exist without an^^ room at all. Not even the 
most insignificant soul could exist within a mathematical point. 
If, therefore, by an unextended substance we are to understand 
one which has no relations to space save those of position only, 
then we not merely admit that such an object could not be aflTected 
by material changes, but we deny that either the soul or anything 
else is a substance of this character. In short, we reject the 
view of Descartes and many other learned men, that spirits do 
not in any sense occupy space, and incline to the belief that 
the soul, in some subtile way, pervades and possesses the sen- 
sory system. 

4. We have no reason to suppose that the soul has 
a sfmp?e shapc and parts like the body, or even that it is a com- 
wwcif pet posite substance. The probable opinion is, that it is 
vadesthe a simple substaucc endowed throughout with various 
Ariltotie""' powers, and that, if not always present, it is capable 
Early Chris- of becoming instantly present, either successively or 
*'^"^' simultaneously, at different points of the sensorium, 

as these may be acted on by material agents. The soul certainly 
seems to exercise, in that part of the body which may be affected, 
that mode of sensation which corresponds to the peculiar action, 
of the nerves of that part. 

But, possibly, in times of quiescence or of sleep, the spiritual 
substance may retire wholly" to the brain. 



Chap. IV.] SENSE AND ITS RELATIONS. 31 

The doctrine of the pervading presence of the soul was taught 

by Aristotle, who held that the soul is all (that is, with all its 
powers), in every part of the body. This was also the view 
commonly entertained in the early days of Christianity. The 
epistle to Diognetus — an eloquent letter, probably written by 
Justin Martyr, but certainly addressed by some eminent Chris- 
tian in the first or second century to an equally eminent pagan 
— contains the following passage: ''That," says the author, 
" which the soul is in the body, the same are Christians in the 
world ; for the soul is diffused through all the members of 
the body, and Christians through all the states of the world. 
The soul dwells, indeed, in the body, but is not of the bodj^ ; 
and Christians dwell in the world, but are not of the world." 

The prevalence, in modern times, of the opinion 
SSu?f' that the soul does not occupy space, may be traced to 
tiiesouiun- -fche writings of Rene Descartes, who^ in the second 
quarter of the seventeenth centur3% revolted against 
the traditional dogmas of the Middle Ages, and formed for him- 
self a new philosophy. One of his favorite doctrines was that the 
essence of matter is extension, and that the essence of the mind 
is thought, — that matter is the extended unthinking substance, 
and that mind is the thinking unextended substance. This 
doctrine was incorporated into the philosophy of Europe, and 
has been maintained as the proper opposite of materialism. 
The influence of it is apparent in the earlier teachings of the 
Scotch school. For example. Dr. Thomas Reid, one hundred 
years after Descartes, ridicules the idea that one's mind can be 
present in his toe, so as to feel pain there. " Philosophers," he 
says, "have disputed much about the place of the mind, 3^et 
none of them ever placed it in the toe." 

Though Descartes maintained that the soul can exist without 
being extended, he allowed that it must have a place or location. 
He supposed that it resides in the pineal gland, a small gland 
in the centre of the brain. His followers, also, endeavored to 
account for a fact which he himself did not admit, namely, that 
the soul and body directly influence each other. " The soul," 
said they, " ma}- be compared to a spider seated in the centre 
of its web. The moment the least agitation is caused at the 
extremity of this web, the insect is advertised, and put upon the 
watch. In like manner the mind, situated in the brain, has 
a point on which all the nervous filaments converge ; it is in- 
formed of what passes at the different parts of the body, and 
forthwith it takes its measures accordingly. The body thus 
acts with a real eflSciency on the mind, and the mind acts with 
a real eflSciency on the body." 



32 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. IV. 

The tendency, of late j-ears, has been to return to the ancient 
belief in the spaciality of spirit. Sir "William Hamilton, though 
confessing himself in perplexity, annotates on Reicl as follows : 
" Both in ancient and modern times the opinion has been held 
that mind has as much a local presence in the toe as in the head. 
The doctrine long generall}^ maintained was that, in relation to 
the body, the soul is all iii the whole^ and all in every part. . . . 
The first condition of the possibility of an immediate, intuitive, 
or real, perception of external things, which our consciousness 
assures us that we possess, is the immediate connection of the 
cognitive principle with every part of the corporeal organism. 
. . . That the pain is where it is felt, is the doctrine of common 
sense. We only feel inasmuch as we have a body and a soul ; 
we only feel pain in the toe inasmuch as we have such a mem- 
ber, and inasmuch as the mind, or sentient principle, pervades 
it. We just as much feel in the toe as we think in the head." 
President Porter, also, expresses himself in similar terms. 

The view of Hamilton and Porter involves that not 
ingofHam- merely the feeling, but also the initial or primary 
POTter^*^ perception of it, takes place where the bodily affec- 
tion occurs. At the same time this cognition, though 
as local as the sensation, is, of itself, extremely indefinite. It 
is perhaps the lowest possible form of intellectual action. The 
completed and measured estimate of the distances and direc- 
tion of sensations from one another, and the exact determina- 
tion of the places of feelings with reference to the parts of the 
bod}', are judgments lohich follow upon the comjmrisoii and 
construing together of the primary perceptions of the sensa- 
tions; and the formation of these definite judgments requires 
some time and experience. 

Moreover, the mind, while the body is j^et whole, having used 
these secondary judgments and found them trustworthy, adopts 
them as rules of belief in regard to all sensations which may 
take place in the same general region or direction ; and the 
habit of conclusion thus formed is not easily laid aside. This 
may explain the fact that after the amputation of a limb, it 
is often diflficult for one to realize that he has lost a hand or a 
foot. With some individuals the tendency to erroneous judg- 
ment does not remain long ; with others it lasts for years. 



Chap. V.] EFFICIENCY PRODUCING SENSATION. 33 

CHAPTER V. 

THE EFFICIENCY PRODUCING SENSATION. 

1. Sir William Hamilton, in the sixteenth lecture of his meta- 
ph^'sical course, shows what difficulties have arisen in philosophy 
concerning the causal connection between soul and bod}^ and 
confesses that he himself, having failed of a satisfactory solution, 
had resolved to rest in a "contented ignorance." Before fur- 
ther discussion in regard to this connection, it ma}'" be instruc- 
tive to consider briefly the strange h3^potheses which those were 
driven to adopt who, for various reasons, believed that neither 
agent can directly act upon the other. Beside the ancient Aris- 
totelian doctrine of direct influence.^ which we regard as the 
correct view, three hypotheses have been devised. 
The plastic The first of these, in point of time, was the hy- 
medium. pothesis of the plastic medium. It is to be traced 
to Plato, who teaches "that the soul employs the body as its 
instrument ; but that tlie energj^, or life and sense, of the body 
is the manifestation of a different substance, — of a substance 
which holds a kind of intermediate existence between mind and 
matter." The Alexandrian Platonists specially elaborated this 
idea ; and " in their ps3^cholog3^, the oxo^, or vehicle of the soul, 
the medium through which it is united to the bod}", is a promi- 
nent and distinctive principle." Saint Augustine inclined to 
this view ; and it has been adopted by some eminent modern 
philosophers. 

Occasional The' sccoud hypothesis is that of occasional causes, 
causes. gy ^n Occasional cause is meant a cause which is 
only the occasion of some effect, and which does not contrib- 
ute at all to the efficiency producing the effect. This theory 
is also named the Iwpothesis of divine assistance, because God 
is regarded as the real causal agent between mind and bod}^ 
According to this view, " the brain does not act immediately and 
really upon the soul ; the soul has no direct cognizance of any 
modification of the brain. This is impossible. God himself, 
by a law which he has established, when movements are deter- 
mined in the brain, produces analogous modifications in the 
conscious mind. In like manner, in case the mind has a voli- 
tion to move the arm, this vohtion of itself would be ineffica- 
cious ; but God, in virtue of the same law, causes the answering 
motion in the limb. The body, therefore, is not the real cause 



34 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. V. 

of the mental modifications, nor the mind the real cause of the 
bodily movements." This doctrine was first advocated by Male- 
branche and other followers of Descartes ; Dr. Reid inclined to 
it, and it was maintained by Professor Stewart. 
Pre-estab- "^^^ third h^'pothesis, which is the most curious 
lisbed bar- of all, is that of predetermined harmony. It was 
™^^^* originated b}" Leibnitz. According to it, soul and 

bod}' have no communication, no mutual influence. "The 
soul passes from one state to another by virtue of its own na- 
ture. The body executes the series of its movements without 
an}' participation or interference of the soul in these. The 
soul and body are like two clocks, accurately regulated, which 
i;)oint to the same hour and minute, although the spring which 
moves the one is not that which moves the other. This har- 
mony was established before the creation of man, and hence is 
called the pre-established or predetermined harmou}'." 

We object to all these theories, that the}" are mere hypotheses 
devised to meet a difficulty lohich originates in mistaken views^ 
and that they are devoid of support save such as can be found 
from their fitness for that end. We can find no evidence of any 
medium of communication between soul and body, or of any 
divine interference to produce sensations and carry out voli- 
tions, or of that marvellous foreordained correspondence be- 
tween corporeal changes and the life of the soul. On the 
contrary, both our natural couA'ictions and our critical obser- 
vations indicate that we actually are influenced by affections 
of the body. The mind refers its sensations to antecedents 
immediately present, yet outside of itself; our very concep- 
tions of the sensible qualities and changes of matter are essen- 
tially conceptions of the causes of various forms of sensation 
as related to these effects, and we intuitively ascribe efficiency 
to these causes. Our sensations, therefore, are perceived as 
really resulting from the body and things afl'ecting the body. 
When we handle a stone, its weight, hardness, roughness, and 
coldness are real causes producing eflTects corresponding to 
them in us. All this we firmly believe till confused by some 
philosophical subtilty. Let us remember that difficulties on 
this subject have resulted simply from an undue contrasting of 
mind and matter, of soul and body, as things different in na- 
ture, and we shall have no trouble in accepting the teachings of 
intuition. These two substances differ, perhaps, as far as sub- 
stances can differ, but not so far as to be incapable of mutual 
influence. This whole subject brings before us one of those fre- 
quently recurring cases in which the best philosophy is found to 
accord with the ordinary convictions of mankind. 



Chap. V.] EFFICIENCY PRODUCING SENSATION. 85 

Three possi- 2. Accepting the view that sensations are occa- 
bie theories, sioned by corporeal affections, we have 3'et to choose 
between several theories respecting the efficienc}^ producing 
sensation. 

First, it has been taught that the power producing sensation 
is exercised wholly by the body, and that the soul is loholly pas- 
sive. When lightning tears open the roof of some building, or 
the electric spark pierces the paper subjected to its passage, the 
roof or the paper does not actively contribute to the result. 
A stone flung into the air does not originate any of the force 
by which it is propelled ; it is entirel}^ recipient and devoid of 
exertion. So the soul might be considered wholly passive in 
sensation ; it might be likened to a placid lifeless pool whose 
rippling motions are made by the breezes onl}*. 

Again, it has been contended that the efficiency producing 
sensation resides wholly in the soul^ and does not rise at all 
from the affections of our sensor}' system. When a child becomes 
interested in some pretty toy and seeks it, the toy cannot be 
supposed to be the efficient cause of the excitement of the 
child's desires. These, indeed, without the view of the toy, 
could not have arisen ; but the whole power in the case be- 
longs to the infantile soul itself. As, therefore, the intellect 
and the motivities of man act with an efficienc}' independent of 
their objects, so, it is argued, the power of sense acts without 
any external stimulus, and simpl}' on the occasion of changes 
in the nerves. 

Finalh', it maj' be conjectured that the efficienc}' producing 
sensation belongs partly to the body and p)artly to the mind. 
When a blow discharges a percussion cap, the effect depends on 
the detonating powder quite as much as on the force of the 
blow. So, when a vessel of water at a low temperature and 
perfectly still, is shaken a little, it immediately turns to ice ; 
and when certain solutions are mingled, they effervesce and form 
new compounds. In these cases the shaking and the mingling 
do not produce the effect so much as other causes which these 
bring into play. The question, therefore, suggests itself, whether 
our sensations, even though efficient!}' caused by bodily affections, 
are not also due partly to the active power of the soul. 

Of these theories we prefer the last. We incline to 
cause of seu- the opinion that the efficient cause of sensation does 
twofold^ not belong exclusively either to the bod}^ or to the 
mind, but is a combination, partly pthysical, partly 
spiritual. The motion of the bow of the viohn produces that 
of the string, 3'et only in part ; the tightness and elasticit}^ of 
the string contribute. So nervous changes affect the mind; 



36 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. V. 

while 5^et this affection is not purely passive, but results also in 
part from a power of action belonging to the soul itself. 
Partly ex- That sensation is truly caused b}' physical changes 
ternai and is implied in those natural judgments which men 
physical. continually make. We say that the wind makes us 
cold, that the fire warms us, that sound afiects our ears, scent 
our nostrils, light our eyes, and so forth. Thus we refer these 
feelings to various physical causes, which act upon our bodily 
frame, and upon our souls as inhabiting the hodj. We also 
make an important distinction between what is merely an object 
of cognition and what is a cause of sensation. In cognition, 
the activity and its causation are regarded as wholly mental ; 
in sensation, the prominent efficiency presented in perceptive 
thought is ph3'sical. These natural judgments accord with 
critical inquiry. A scrutiny of the conditions of sensation easily 
produces instances in which no other antecedent can be found 
than some affection of the nervous system. Moreover, the re- 
searches of anatomy and surgery show, to a demonstration, on 
what branches and filaments of the sensor}^ sj'stem our bodily 
feelings severall}' depend. In short, no fact of physical science 
is more certain than this, which belongs to mental science also, 
that sensation results from an excitement of the nerves. 

At the same time some considerations support the belief that 
the soul is 7iot wholly passive in sensation^ but that it exercises 
an efficiency of its own. 

This is suggested by the analogy of our other 
S^naf ami psychical operations. In thought, sensibihty, de- 
psychicai: sire, and action, man is conscious of self-activit}^ 
tiie arfaiogy ^e pcrccives that each of these modes of experi- 
of our other eucc has no causal antecedents other than psychical, 

powers. 1 »/ ' 

and can be ascribed to no efficiency other than that 
belonging to the soul itself. He therefore regards them as 
coming from a spring within. External objects may inter- 
rupt and modify the current of mental life, but the}^ are not 
necessary to its continuance. The soul, once aroused to move- 
ment, lives on with an activity perpetual and inherent. 

Moreover, although, during man's earthly existence, his psjxhi- 
cal experience has been made dependent on bodily conditions, 
there is no evidence that it originates from them. On the contrary, 
easily distinguishing the spiritual activities, of which he is con- 
scious, from all physical phenomena, man intuitively recognizes 
these activities and their powers as belonging not to his bod}^ 
but to a substance other than his bod}', — that is, to his true self, 
or spirit ; and so, as we have said, he regards the soul as self- 
active, because the greater and essential part of its experience, 



Chap. V.] EFFICIENCY PRODUCING SENSATION. 37 

however dependent upon corporeal conditions, is perceived to 
originate, not from them, but from the soul itself. If every 
other ps3'chical experience ma}^ be thus traced to the working of 
some inward power, ma}- not sensation, likewise, be considered 
as resulting, in part at least, from the soul's own activit}^ ? 

To this conclusion we are led, also, by the following 
of tS^pecu- consideration. When one substance acts on another 
tif"ff^t which is perfectly passive, the effect is of the same 
general character with the action by which it is caused. 
One stone, for example, striking another, transmits its own mo- 
tion and nothing more. But when the effect is of a neio and 
jjecidiar character., ice find the cause partly also in the sub- 
stance affected. The cause of the explosion of the percussion 
cap is found more in the detonating powder than in the blow ; 
and the new compound from mixed fluids results more from 
chemical affinities than from the commingling. Now the nature 
of sensation, like that of our other psjchical experiences, is 
revealed to us through consciousness, without which power we 
could not have the remotest conception of spiritual things ; and 
we know that sensation is something extremely dissimilar to 
physical changes of any kind, so much so that we can scarcely 
compare it with them in an}^ way. What likeness does any 
material process bear to the pain of toothache or of rheumatism, 
and what chemical or mechanical operation can be compared to 
the satisfaction of hunger or the gratification of taste ? Some- 
times we describe a sensation by mentioning the physical action 
b}^ which it may be produced, — as, for example, the sensation 
of being struck or cut or burned, — but we distinguish the out- 
ward action and the inward experience as being very different. 
Some generic likeness, perhaps, can be found in sensations to 
other and higher feelings with which pain and pleasure are also 
specially connected, such as jo}', sorrow, hope, fear, love, hatred ; 
but we can discover no resemblance in them to any physical 
phenomena. Such being the case, it is reasonable to believe 
that sense is not merely a capacity, but a capability ; and that 
the mind, the substance in which sense inheres, itself con- 
tributes to the efficiency producing sensation. 
3. Because Fiuall}^, the activity of the soul in sensation is sug- 
reacUrais of S^^^®^ ^J Certain reactions of mental upon physical 
mind on life, which result in bodily feelings more or less 
^°'^^' defined. In certain exceptional cases, which can be 

easily distinguished, sensations seem to originate from psj'chi- 
cal efficiency, no external excitant being present ; for exam- 
ple, purely intellectual feelings — that is, those emotions which 
result from thought and which are not the consequence of 



38 MENTAL SCIENCE, [Chap. V. 

bodil}^ changes — are sometimes accompanied with sensations. 
Surprise causes a startUng sensation ; disappointment, a sinking 
feeling in the breast ; fear produces chilhness. In short, cor- 
poreal feelings generally attend any violent mental disturbance. 
Here it may be objected that, in such cases, sensation is not 
directly produced b}^ ps3'chical efSciencj^, but onl}^ indirectly 
and through an affection of the nerves. Possibl}' this may be 
so ; such instances certainly evince that the soul can act on the 
sensorium as well as the seusorium on the soul. 

It ma}', however, be more to our present purpose to remark that 
imaginative ideas in dreatning^ and even iyi icakeful hoiirs^ 
sometimes cause sensations,, as if some realit}' had taken place ; 
and the sensations thus excited seem also to produce nervous 
changes, such as at other times produce them. The order of cau- 
sation appears to be reversed. Instead of nervous change, sen- 
sation, thought, we have tliought, sensation, nervous change. In 
dreams, especiall}', our sensations often appear to be more than 
mere imaginings ; we experience, though in feeble measure, the 
pains and pleasures of real life. How often, too, we meet with 
those who assert that the}' have heard the voices or seen the 
faces of absent friends, themselves creatmg what they hear or 
see ! Various experiments may illustrate this power of the mind 
to originate its own sensations. Should a sharp needle be 
directed towards the middle of one's forehead, and advanced 
steadih', a singular feeling is experienced, at least by nervous 
people, at the place where the point of the needle is expected. 
This must result from the mind's own activity. Moreover, the 
soul, wh«n special I3' interested, appears to have the power of 
adding to the natural keenness of an}' sense. When we listen 
or gaze, or even touch, taste, or smell, attentively, new delicacy 
is given to the organ. It is said to be innervated ; and this 
innervation is probably an increase of that efficiency which the 
soul exercises in sensation, and is similar to the increase which 
special interest and effort produce in the energy of any other 
spiritual power. 

Herbert Spencer testifies to the fact that thought does some- 
times produce bodily feelings, though he does not use it as we 
have done. He sa}'s : " Ideas do, in some cases, arouse sensa- 
tions. Several instances occur in my own experience. I cannot 
think of seeing a slate rubbed with a dry sponge without there 
running through me th6 same cold thrill that actually seeing it 
produces." As this reactionary movement of the mind depends 
on the recollection of things already perceived by the senses, it 
is an indication that the primary and proper source of sensation 
is the action of the body on the mind. 



Chap. VI.] CEREBRALISM, OR MATERIALISM. 39 

CHAPTEK VI. 
CEREBRALISM, OR MATERIALISM. 

M t r' r m ^' "^^^ cioctrine which makes spirit only a refined 
defined. spccies of matter is called matei'ialism. The essential 
Cerebrahsm. pQJjj|^ [^ materialism is that sensation, thought, and 
spiritual experience generall3% result simply from the operation 
of phj'sical agents as such, or as acting in obedience to their 
own proper laws. This idea has been expressed sometimes by 
comparing ps3xhical operations to those phenomena of light, 
heat, and electricity which take place during chemical and vital 
processes. In other words, materiahsm teaches, not merely 
that spirit is extended and has other attributes in common with 
matter ; not merely even that spirit has all the essential attri- 
butes of matter, although no one save a materialist would say 
this ; but also, and especiall}', that the life of spirit is purely a 
development of material forces. 

The modern adherents of this doctrine have frequently been 
st^ied cerebralists^ because they derive psychical phenomena 
from certain supposed qualities of the brain and nerves. Au- 
guste Comte, in his "Positive Philosophy," distrusts and con- 
temns all facts save the ph3'sical and tangible, and finds in these 
an explanation of all phenomena. According to him, " the pos- 
itive theory of the intellectual and afllectional functions ... is 
simph^ a prolongation of animal physiolog}', . . . from which it 
differs far less than this last difl'ers from simple organic or veg- 
etable physiology." Herbert Spencer and Alexander Bain are 
English psychologists, and Professors Tyndall and Huxley English 
scientific writers, who, with some modifications of thouglit and 
phraseology, have ideas essentially similar to those of Comte. 

Let us note that the question presented hy materialism is not 
identical with the question whether the soul and the body are 
tioo distiiict existences. If this were the case, it would be easily 
settled. In ever}^ act of sense-perception the ego^ or self, or 
soul, immediateh' distinguishes from itself the non-ego^ or body, 
whose affections are the cause of our sensations. So also the 
ego immediatel}^ refers spiritual activities and powers to itself, 
and sense-affecting operations and powers to the non-ego. Thus 
soul and body are at once distinguished. But the statement of 
these facts, although they have an important bearing on the 
argument, is not the proper opposite of the materialistic theory. 
One might allow the distinct existence of soul and of bod}', 



40 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. VI. 

and yet argue that the soul is a product of some corporeal func- 
tion. Those who say tliat the brain produces mind just as the 
liver produces bile might say, that, as the bile is not the liver, so 
the mind is not the brain. The question therefore remains, Is 
not the soul an offspring of the bod}'? For example, ma}' it not 
be some subtile, active fluid secreted by the nervous system ; and 
may not its experiences be the movements of this fluid? 
Contrary ^^ reject all such forms of belief for the following 

to common rcasous. In the first place, though often advocated 

earnestly by philosophical speculators, materialism 
has always been condemned by the common sense — that is, the 
practical spontaneous reason — of mankind. Men in general 
do not inquire whether or how far mind and matter have a 
community of nature, or whether matter be the only extended 
substance or not, whether mind is capable of being enclosed in 
limits like the body, whether mobility and motion maybe affirmed 
alike of both substances, and such questions ; but they do hold 
that matter and spirit are radically, generically, different. So 
far as we can learn, no people, certainly no civilized people, have 
believed that the soul is simply a material product. As man- 
kind are constantly and intimately concerned both with spiritual 
and with material objects, and with each as these objects really 
exist, their judgment as to a radical diversity of nature is not 
to be esteemed lightly. 

Not proved ^^ ^^^^ "^"^^ placc, the fact that psychical states, at 
by the de- least during man's present life, are immediately con- 
psychS^^ ditioned on physical, does not prove that the former 
on physical originate from the latter, or that thev are of the same 

general nature with physical phenomena. A good bed 
and a sufficient degree of warmth are the conditions of restful 
sleep ; yet we do not, on that account, identify the bed and its 
warmth with the sleeper and his repose. So, after men perceive 
the intimate connection of soul and body, and the dependence of 
spiritual activity on the use of cerebral organs, the distinction is 
soon made between the conscious agent ^ on the one hand, and 
the physical conditions of his activity^ on the other. They see 
that the agent may have an origin and an existence independent 
of the conditions to which his life is subjected ; and they con- 
demn the identification of the psychical with the physical as an 
undue and even as an unreasonable assumption ; for when, in 
any case, some needful antecedent of a phenomenon seems unfit 
or inadequate for its production, we naturally say that it is only 
a condition and not the essential cause of the phenomenon in 
question. How easily, on this principle, we distinguish between 
any sensation and the affection of the sensorium on which it may 



Chap. VI.] CEREBRALISM, OR MATERIALISM. 41 

depend, — for example, between toothache and the UTitation of 
the dental nerve ! In the same way we distinguish between the 
whole nervous S3'stem and the soul dwelhng within it. 
The belief 'i^his judgment of common sense, which affirms the 

inimmate- unfitness of the phj'sical to produce the ps3-chical, 
inductive seems really to be an inductive conclusion concerning 
judgment, j^j^g general character of material agents and their 
operations. Setting aside points of philosophical disputation, 
we may sa}" that tlie conception of matter, as commonly and cor- 
rectly entertained, includes those substances generally, or that 
part of substantial being, lohose nature and operations are 
made known to us in the exercise of sense-perception, and 
through inquiries essentially dependeyit on this p>ower ; while 
spirit is that part of substantial being lohose character and phe- 
nomena are peo^ceived ioi the exercise of consciousness, and by 
m^eans of investigations dependent thereupon. We believe, too, 
that any more complete and satisfactory definitions of these two 
substances must be worked out within the lines of thought indi- 
cated by these broad characterizations ; which, however, are suf- 
ficient for our present purpose. 

We should also add that while matter, not mind, is the im- 
mediate object of sense-cognitions, and while mind, not matter, 
is the immediate object of consciousness, experience enables us 
to use each of these powers of perception in the service of inqui- 
ries dependent primarily on the other. Thus the sight of an 
improved countr}^, through an exercise of sense-perception, wit- 
nesses the industr}^ and intelligence of the inhabitants ; and in 
like manner a sense of exhilaration attested by consciousness 
may indicate a salubrious and invigorating atmosphere. 

Now, if our knowledge and conception of matter and its 
qualities be formed as we have stated, the materialistic contro- 
versy may be made to assume a definite shape. If matter be 
defined as the substance whose existence and attributes are 
known in the cognitions of sense, then the question for deter- 
mination is, Can the production of spirit and its activities 
he accounted for by any powers of matter similar to those dis- 
covered by sense-perception and physical investigation f The 
question, thus stated, leads to a negative answer; for physical 
investigation — the examination of material properties and pow- 
ers — can discover no phenomenon in Nature similar to that 
production of ps^'chical life which has been supposed to take 
place in the brain. We find in matter strict but blind obedience 
to the laws of its own constitution, and look in vain for any 
development of mental life. Moreover, acting on the rational 
presumption that such life, if it existed, would certainly manifest 



42 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. VI. 

itself in some waj^, we take the absence of manifestation as a 
satisfactoiy proof of the non-existence of the psychical activity. 
If, then, no material combination is ever known to produce 
spiritual life or aught save physical changes, is it probable that 
the cerebrum, a body composed of common and well-known ele- 
ments, should be thus endowed? The passage from the ordi- 
nar}^ and physical operations of matter to this extraordinary and 
ps3'chical activity is a step which the mind refuses to take. It 
would be easier to accept the doctrine of the alchemists that 
base metals may be converted into gold, than to believe that 
any kind of matter is capable of the production of spirit and its 
phenomena. So far as can be seen, matter acting upon matter 
leaves it matter still. 

Nopsyciii- Some, we know, assert that the operations of or- 
cai life in ganic life in vegetable and animal structures indicate 
bofSesS an intelligence resident in such structures or origi- 
sucii. nating from them. To us organic growths exhibit 

only peculiar physical and molecular powers with which the 
Creator has endowed various material combinations of his 
own formation. 

It is evident that the works of Nature in general could not 
have originated the intelhgence manifested in their constitution. 
To suppose that they did, would be to make them the source of 
that source from which they themselves have evidentlj^ been de- 
rived. Who can credit the assertion that this great universe, so 
filled with order and goodness and beauty, was not produced by 
a pre-existing Intelligence ? Who can believe that an3^ one of 
God's wonderful works — for instance, the ph3"sical frame of 
man, with the complicated adaptations of its organs to each other 
and to the conditions surrounding our life — is the offspring of 
an accidental concourse of unintelligent atoms? No absurdity 
could be greater than this. Lord Bacon, on purely philosophi- 
cal grounds, exclaimed, "I had rather believe all the fables in 
the Legend and the Talmud and the Alcoran, than that this 
universal frame is without a Mind;" and he justly adds, "A 
little philosophy inclineth man's mind to atheism ; but depth of 
philosophy bringeth men's minds about to religion." 

While it is thus clear that material organisms are the work of 
a pre-existing Mind, it is equally evident that they do not ex- 
hibit any power of ps3'chical activity as resulting from the consti- 
tution given them by their Creator. Ever}' operation of organic 
life can be explained as simpl}^ the unintelligent operation of 
ph3'sical forces. The genii of rivers and mountains, the souls of 
plants and trees, the angiy spirits of the thunderbolt and the 
earthquake, are onl}' ideas of the imagination. Moreover, the 



Chap. VL] CEREBRALISM, OR MATERIALISM. 43 

tendrils, roots, and leaves of plants never exhibit more than a 
superficial resemblance to the actions of a living agent. Their 
movements may be, and are, accounted for as simply the result 
of certain laws of molecular attraction and combination. The 
shrinkings of the sensitive shrub seem caused by a power which 
passes along its stems as heat passes along an iron rod. Insec- 
tivorous plants, of themselves, exhibit no more intelligence than 
a rat-trap. So far as can be discovered, all vegetable actions 
result from unthinking physical forces ; there is an utter absence 
of that freedom, variety, and adaptabilit}^ which characterize the 
efforts of voluntary agents. 

In this connection we ma}- notice the use made by 
action of^ ccrebralists of the discoveries of Sir Charles Bell and 
the nervous others, respecting the action of afferent and efferent 
nerves. It has been ascertained that frequently a 
phjT'sical influence being borne to the brain, or to some nerve- 
centre, by an afferent nerve, results, through the agency of the 
corresponding efferent nerve, in some bodily action. Sneezing 
and coughing are examples of such actions. They occur with- 
out anj' volition, sometimes without any consciousness, on our 
part ; but evidently have always a useful end in view. The 
motion of the heart and of the muscles employed in breathing 
is maintained by a nervous influence, without any thought of 
ours ; such, also, seems somewhat the case with various bodily 
actions which may have become habitual. In these movements, 
it is said, the work of mind is plainl}^ performed by the nerves 
alone. But, in the phenomena alluded to, we cannot find any 
evidence that the powers of the soul are identical with those of 
the sensory system or even that the}' are of the same nature. 

On the contrary, as the bodily movements in question are not 
necessarily accompanied with any consciousness, we infer that 
they result from forces which are wholl}' physical. So far from 
indicating a sameness between mental and molecular activity, 
they suggest that the sensory system is an organized kingdom 
of vital but unconscious material agencies, made ready for the 
control and guidance of the inteUigent soul. 

We should also add that no emdence has been discovered of 
any fluid ill the nervous system possessing physical properties, 
with which mind might be supposed to be identical. P^siolo- 
gists incline to the opinion that the excitement of the nerves 
consists simply in the action of molecule upon molecule. 

To sum up what has been said, the chemical and 
of the in-*^" mechanical, the vegetable and corporeal, powers of the 
argument d'^ation all possess a common character. They ex- 
hibit blind obedience to the laws controllins: masses 



44 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. VI. 

and molecules, and nothing more. But the domain of spirit dis- 
closes a new nature. Instead of composition and divisibilit}^, 
there is an absolute and conscious unity ; so that (were con- 
jectures allowable on a point so removed from observation) we 
might suppose mind not to be composed of molecules, but to 
have perfect continuity of being. Instead of a self-helplessness 
which acts only as acted upon, there is ceaseless self-activity ; 
and, above all, instead of the powers of material objects vari- 
ously to affect the senses and to act upon each other, there are 
such spiritual potencies as thought, sensibility, desire, affection, 
and moral principle and purpose. To hold that one of these 
natures with its powers can produce the other nature with its 
powers, is a worse than gratuitous assumption ; it is the assign- 
ment of a phenomenon to an utterly inadequate cause. 
A false Perceiving in all inorganic and organic substances 

analogy, ^n Underlying sameness of nature, we are not sur- 
prised to see one department of the visible creation furnish- 
ing material and support for another. Mechanical powers 
operate everywhere ; while chemical, vegetable, and corporeal 
changes contribute more or less to one another. But because 
of the radical diversit}^ of character between the spiritual and 
the material, the relation of the soul to the body cannot properly 
he compared to that of coiporeal to vegetable structures, or to 
that of vegetable bodies to the inorganic. It is wholh' unlike 
these, and is so regarded in the general opinion of mankind. 
Tyndaii 2. It may seem strange that the leading cerebralists 
quoted, ^f q^. (j^y admit the force of the foregoing reasonings. 
Let us take Professor T3'ndall as a representative man. He 
publishes the conviction that ' ' matter possesses the potency 
of every form and manifestation of life." He saj's : "Were 
not man's origin implicated, we should accept without a mur- 
mur the derivation of animal and vegetable life from what we 
call inorganic Nature. The conclusion of pure reason points 
this way, and no other." In this statement the expression 
"animal life" embraces not merely corporeal vitalit}", but also 
all forms of psychical activity. Yet this sartie professor, speak- 
ing of the theory of " a natural evolution" of the universe from 
inorganic elements, uses the following language: "What are 
the core and essence of this h3'pothesis? Strip it naked, and 
,you stand face to face with tlie notion that not alone the more 
ignoble forms of animalcular or animal life, not alone the nobler 
forms of the horse and the lion, not alone the exquisite and 
wonderful mechanism of the human body, but that the human 
mind itself — emotion, intellect, will, and all their phenomena — 
were once latent in a fiery cloud. Surely the mere statement of 



Chap. VI.] CEREBRALISM, OR MATERIALISM. 46 

such a notion is more than a refutation. I do not think that any 
holder of the evokition hj'pothesis would say that I OA^rstate or 
overstrain it in any wa}'. I merely strip it of all vagueness, and 
bring before 3'ou, unclothed and unvarnished, the notions by 
which it must stand or fall. Surel}^ these notions represent an 
absurdity too monstrous to be entertained by au}^ sane mind." 
In 1868, before the British Association for the Promotion of Sci- 
ence, TAudall said : " Were our minds and senses so expanded, 
strengthened, and illuminated as to enable us to see and feel the 
very molecules of the brain ; were we capable of following all 
their motions, all their groupings, all their electric discharges, 
if such there be ; and were we intimately connected with the cor- 
responding states of thought and feeling, — we should probably 
be as far as ever from the solution of the problem, How are these 
ph3'sical processes connected with the facts of consciousness? 
The chasm between the two classes of phenomena would still 
remain intellectuall}' impassable. Let the consciousness of love, 
for example, be associated with a right-handed spiral motion of 
the molecules of the brain, and the consciousness of hate with a 
left-handed spiral motion : we should then know when we love 
that the motion is in one direction, and when we hate that the 
motion is in another direction ; but the why would still remain 
unanswered." And in 1875 he reiterates the statement: "You 
cannot satisfj^ the human understanding in its demand for logical 
continuity between molecular processes and the phenomena of 
the human mind." 

We are astonished at such utterances from one who finds every 
potenc}^ in matter, and we ask for an explanation of them, litis 
is to he found in a conception of matter presented by Professor 
Tyndall^ which differs from that entertained by men in gen- 
eral. Matter as matter — that is, as possessed of those quali- 
ties commonl}^ ascribed to it — cannot produce ps3'chical life ; 
but it is endowed with other and higher powers^ and in the exer- 
cise of these it may and does produce the phenomena of mind. 
To show the reasonableness of this idea, the Professor dilates 
eloquently on material "potencies." "Think," he exclaims, 
"of the acorn, of the earth, and of the solar light and heat! 
Was ever such necromancj' dreamt of as the production of that 
massive trunk, the swaying boughs, and whispering leaves, 
from the interaction of those three factors ? In this interaction 
consists what we call life. . . . Consider for a moment this 
potency of matter. There is an experiment, first made by 
Wheatstone, where the music of a piano is transferred from its 
sound-board through a thin wooden rod across several silent 
rooms in succession, and poured out at a distance from the 



46 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. VI. 

instrument. The strings of the piano vibrate, not singly, but ten 
at a time. Every string subdivides, yielding not one note, but 
a dozen. All these vibrations and subvibrations are crowded 
together into a bit of deal not more than a quarter of a square 
inch in section. Yet no note is lost ; each vibration asserts its 
rights, and all are at last shaken forth into the air by a second 
sound-board, against which the distant end of the rod presses. 
Thought ends in amazement as it seeks to realize the motions of 
that rod as the music flows through it. I turn to my tree, and 
observe its roots, its trunk, its branches, and its leaves. As the 
rod conveys the music and yields it up to the distant air, so' 
does the trunk conve}^ the matter and the motion — the shocks 
and pulses and other vital actions — which eventually emerge 
in the umbrageous foliage of the tree." In short. Professor 
Tyndall holds that evolution and materialistic notions are " ab- 
surd in relation to the ideas concerning matter which were 
drilled into us when young. Spirit and matter have ever been 
presented to us in the rudest contrast, — the one as all noble, 
the other as all vile." But if we should come to ' ' regard them 
as equally worthy and equally wonderful, — to consider them, in 
fact, as two opposite faces of the same great mystery^'" — our 
difficulties would disappear. He confesses that his theor}^ calls 
for a " total revolution of the notions now prevalent," yet de- 
rives encouragement from the fact that "in man}^ profoundly 
thoughtful minds such a revolution has alreadj^ occurred." 
Remarks on ^^ regard to thesc views of Professor T3^ndall, we 
the views have the following remarks to make. First, in his 
of Tyndall. acknowledging that matter, as commonly conceived 
of, cannot produce mind or ps3X'hical phenomena, he yields 
the essential point in controvers}^ If the production of 
spiritual phenomena result from powers different from those 
which matter is generally known to have, then these are pro- 
duced by matter, not as matter, but as something of another 
nature. Matter, in fact, becomes itself the creative or forma- 
tive spirit of the universe. This doctrine is not materialism ; 
it is a form of pantheism ; and the adoption of it is the sur- 
render of materialism, properly so called. 

In the next place, although Tj^ndall calls for a "total revo- 
lution" of our conceptions concerning matter, he fails to 
furnish any distinct basis for this change of view. As alread}^ 
said, his language sometimes suggests that there are powers in 
matter different from those which we call material ; yet just as 
frequently he makes these other powers only the ordinary powers 
of matter exalted and refined. After all his eloquent illustra- 
tions of the wonderful potencies of matter, we find it hard to 



Chap. VI.] CEREBRALISM, OR MATERIALISE!. 47 

tell whether his views be reall}- materialistic or pantheistic. The 
powers which he specifically describes are purelj'' physical and 
unintelligent. The only '' revolution " which his language effects 
is one which brings us back to our starting-point in a some- 
what bewildered condition as to the meaning of tlie Professor. 

Finalh', we say that the pantheistic view, which makes mat- 
ter to be a kind of unconscious 3'et thinking agent, is a doctrine 
wholl}^ unsupported by evidence, and even more absurd tlian tlie 
extremest materialism. Mankind justly regard matter as devoid 
of the distinctive characteristics of mind ; it never manifests 
these characteristics, and seems unfit to possess them. Nor 
could any opinion be more irrational than that the intelligence 
of creation and providence, which has solved problems of a 
complication and greatness far transcending the grasp of human 
faculties, is the attribute — the under ivecl attribute — of an aggre- 
gate of material molecules ; an aggregate, too, entirely uncon- 
scious of its own existence and its own activity. 

We have now considered materialism with reference to those 
facts upon which its advocates rely. We find that these, strictly 
interpreted, do not support this form of belief, but indicate a 
radical diversity of nature between matter and spirit. The doc- 
trine which we thus contrast with materialism has sometimes 
been called dualism, because it asserts a dualit}^ of nature in 
those beings immediately perceived by us. It is opposed to 
materialism on the one hand, and to idealism on the other, 
which doctrines, and also pantheism, to which they severally 
lead, have been classed together under the title of monism; 
for they all assert that we are cognizant of only one kind of 
substance. 

God has no 3. Bcforo closing our argument, we must direct 
^'^'^"^- attention to the force of that great fact, which the 

positive philosophy vainly endeavors to ignore, and which, 
whether it be accepted or not, we think should be patent to every 
candid student of creation and providence. To us, assuredly', 
those works of wisdom, power, and goodness which alone en- 
noble the universe and make it glorious, manifest a Being incon- 
ceivabl}' great and mighty, j^et possessed of attributes essentially 
similar to those which characterize our own spirits. But where 
is the brain that gave birth to the omnipresent and all-creative 
mind ? What material origin can be imagined for that cosmical 
Intelligence which first fashioned and still sust«ains the S3'stem of 
which we form a part? The fact has already been noticed that 
much nervous action takes place witiiout any psychical activity. 
Is not the intelligent activity- of the Creator a case in which the 
attributes of spirit are exercised without an}' connection with 



48 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. VI. 

cerebral or other material organs ? And if this be so, ma}' we 
not conclude that the existence and life of finite spirits are not 
necessaril}' dependent upon material causes, but that, with some 
wise design, the}' have been subjected for the present to earthly 
and corporeal conditions ? 

The spirits Here the question arises. May not a material ori- 
of brutes. ^\y^ ^^^^ nature be assigned at least to the spirits of 
the brute creation? We think not. So far as brutes exhibit 
Intel hgence, affection, and other ps,ychical activities, they belong 
to the domain of spirit, not to that of matter. Our planet 
seems to be a theatre in which two diverse worlds of God's 
creation, the spiritual and the material, mingle their laws and 
forces, acting also upon one another. The substances com- 
posing one of these S3'stems are so diverse in attributes from 
those composing the other, that neither world can be considered 
a derivative or modification of the other ; nor can we by analogy 
infer the laws governing existence and activit}^ in the one, from 
those governing existence and activity in the other. In the 
material world we find no absolute beginning or termination, in- 
crease or diminution, of substantial existence. This is no proof 
that the reverse ma}' not be the case in the invisible and intangi- 
ble realm of spiritual being. We find no difficulty in believing 
that the power of creation and of annihilation, which does not — 
which perhaps cannot — reside in finite existences, may belong to 
the Originator of all things. So far as we can discover and 
judge, all earthly spirits begin to exist at the commencement of 
the activity of their bodily organization. But as the psychical 
endowments of brutes are sufficient and suitable only for the 
direction and the enjoyment of their corporeal life, one might 
expect their spiritual being to be extinguished at the end of 
their animal experience. Its proper purpose would then have 
been fulfilled. Man, on the contrary, has qualities which elevate 
him as far above the brute as the brute is elevated above every 
form of senseless matter. He is capable, even now, of entering 
into the plans and thoughts of the great Creator ; and he has the 
capacity of endless development hereafter. For him the sages 
and philosophers of all ages have predicted immortality. 

When we consider the godlike nature of the human 
tion of"oui' soul, wc sometimes wonder that it should be burdened 
and body ac- ^jth the limitations of corporeal life. All the various 

counted for. t . , i -. i , , • . i 

ends to be subserved by this arrangement may not be 
discoverable, but that the arrangement exists seems an altogether 
reasonable conviction. The soul, in the body, may be likened 
to a man incased in that strange armor which is used by divers. 
When one thus clothed is let down into the sea, his activitv for 



Chap. VI.] CEREBRALISM, OR MATERIALISM, 49 

the time is subjected to conditions very different from those 
which belong to the freedom of his home. His movements are 
restricted and determined by his harness. His sphere of effort 
is limited by the necessity of communication with his associates 
on the surface of the water. The signals by which his conduct 
and that of his friends are guided, come and go through a part 
of his apparatus. His covering, also, is the medium through 
which he receives impressions of surrounding objects, and the 
immediate instrument through which his work of exploration 
and salvage is accomplished. Moreover, so soon as the appa- 
ratus may need repair or readjustment, his submarine exertions 
are, of necessity, suspended. In short, while the armor greatly 
limits and changes his mode of life and labor, it is also the con- 
dition under which the ends of that mode of life and employ- 
ment must he pursued and may he accomplished. In like 
manner it is reasonable to suppose that the same Wisdom which 
has evidently made so many benevolent arrangements for man's 
welfare has, for good reasons, subjected our spirits, in this life, 
to the conditions and influences of a corporeal connection. 

Moreover, the principles of moral philosop)hy enable us to per- 
ceive some purposes which certainly^ or prohably^ led to the in- 
vestiture of the soul with its fleshly habitation and instrument. 
It is evident that man}^ of those restraints by which man is 
withheld from vice, and of those incitements which prompt him 
to virtue, originate in the circwnstances of our present heing. 
Physical life is the necessar}- condition of civil government, of 
all arts and industries, of those temporal cares and employments 
by which the soul is wholesomely occupied, and of those modes 
of mutual helpfulness in which the moralit}^ and benevolence of 
mankind find obtrusive claims and frequent exercise. The birth 
of man into a state of weakness, and the manifest character of 
his subsequent dependence upon powers and agencies other than 
his own, prepare him to repose that faith in divine assistance 
without which spiritual prosperity is impossible for any created 
being. The limitation of the intercourse of spirits, resulting 
from their embodiment, is favorable to the growth of a proper 
moral independence ; which purpose, also, as to the successive 
generations of men, is served b}' the brevity of human life. In 
short, our present state of being, in whatever light we look upon 
it, appears to be specially adapted and designed for our best 
moral development. The operation, for a time, of some such 
system as that under which we live, seems necessary for the 
highest good of the human spirit. 



50 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. Vn. 

CHAPTER VII. 
SENSATIONALISM AND ASSOCIATIONALISM. 
,. , 1 . Sensationalism is that form of belief which ex- 

Sensational- -, . , ••iiT.? t -i ' ^ n 

ism and as- plains man s spiritual life as composed exclusive^ of 
ismSned ^^^sc feelings which are excited by corporeal affec- 
tions, and of modes of action resulting directly and 
wholl}' from these feelings. Associationalism teaches that the 
higher thinkings and actings of the soul result primarily from 
impressions and impulses of external origin, under the opera- 
tion of that well-known law whereby mental states tend to 
recall one another after they have been experienced together. 
In other words, it asserts that not only some, but all of our 
secondary psj^chical movements may be explained as simply 
Related to associational conjunctions and sequences. These two 
material- forms of doctrine are the chief reliance of the mate- 
^''™' rialistic psychologist in his endeavor to account for 

the various manifestations of spiritual life, and naturally so ; 
for, supposing the psj'chical identical with the physical, it is 
difficult to see what better can be done than first to define sen- 
sation as the action of nerve cells, then to make all sjnritual 
activities modes of sensation, and finally to regard e?;ery con- 
junction and sequence of inward states as the association of 
modified se^isations, — that is, of reproduced molecular changes 
— with one another. 

These three forms of opinion — sensationalism, associational- 
ism, and materiahsm — are allied, also, b}' reason of that mode 
of thinking in which they originate. It is essentially one-sided, 
exhibiting a keen but exclusive appreciation of one class or 
kind of phenomena and its laws, and an endeavor to explain all 
other related facts as having the same nature and laws as those 
observed. Materialism, disregarding that cumulative evidence 
bj* which mankind are convinced of the radical duality of sub- 
stantial existence, confounds the life of inteUigent and self- 
conscious spirit with those material changes with which, in 
human experience, it is immediately connected. In like man- 
ner sensationalism, neglecting those marked characteristics 
which prove our higher experiences to originate from peculiar 
and independent powers, makes them all, if not exactty material 
operations, yet mere modifications of impressions and impulses 
received from the outer world. And associationalism, fastening 



Chap. VII.] SENSATIONALISM AND ASSOCIATIONALISM. 51 

• 

its eye on one easily observed law and on the successiveness of 
spiritual phenomena, reduces all other laws to this one, ignoring 
or slurring over the radical peculiarities of various important 
mental operations. 

Representa- Condillac, who wrote in France during the middle 
tivemen. Qf ^he eighteenth century, while Reid was lecturing 
in Scotland, may be considered the founder of sensation- 
alism. Representing man as a statue to which capacities of 
sensation had been imparted, he held that a statue thus 
qualified, and without any further endowment, would gradually 
manifest all the phenomena of mind. According to him, the 
modifications of the soul from present objects are sensations ; 
and these, when reproduced and refined b}^ the memorj^, are 
ideas. Hartley, an English contemporary of Reid and Con- 
dillac, may be considered the founder of associationalism. He, 
at least more formally than any of his predecessors, made asso- 
ciation the one fundamental law of human thought and belief. 
James Mill and John Stuart Mill (father and son) did much, 
by their talented authorship, to recommend Hartley's views. 
According to them, our most deep-seated convictions and prin- 
ciples are merely associations of ideas rendered inseparable by 
habit. 

At the present time Herbert Spencer, uniting in one system 
the essential views of Comte, Condillac, and Hartlej^, is the 
exponent at once of materialism, sensationalism, and associa- 
tionalism. Spencer also is the apostle of evolution, — that is, of 
the theor}^ of the spontaneous self-development of the universe, 
from a condition of formless and diffused ''homogeneity" into 
a condition of orderly and harmonized "heterogeneity." This 
development, according to Spencer, results from a restless ten- 
dency of the ultimate atoms of matter to combine with each 
other, and from the "survival of the fittest" combinations 
(which for some reason are always the strongest), while the 
worse and weaker disappear. He holds his other views in sub- 
ordination to this main idea. Although Spencer asserts that we 
can know nothing of the real nature of either mind or matter, 
he also maintains that, so far as we do know them, they are 
identical. His language throughout is that of the extremest 
materialism; and, as the "conclusion" of his philosoph}^, he 
declares " that it is one and the same ultimate reality which is 
manifested to us subjectively and objectivel}'." 
Spencer Somc extracts from Spencer's " Psj'chology " may 

quoted. illustrate a style of theorizing which in some quarters 
is strangely popular. Life "is the continuous adjustment of 
internal relations to external relations ; " and psychical life is 



62 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. VII. 

thus "differentiated," or developed, from physical. "Along with 
complexit}- of organization, there goes an increase in the number, 
range, speciality, and complexity" of the adjustment of inner rela- 
tions to outer relations. And in tracing up the increase, we find 
ourselves passing icithoiit break from the phenomena of bodily 
to the phenomena of mental life." On hearing this statement, one 
cannot help exclaiming, "How great is the power of complex- 
ity!" Thought, as originating in the association and "con- 
solidation" of sensations, is explained as follows: "What is 
objectively a wave of molecular change, propagated through a 
nerve centre, is subjectively a unit of feeling, aldn in nature to 
what we call a nervous shock. . . . When a rapid succession 
of such waves yields a rapid succession of such units of feeling, 
there results the continuous feeling known as a sensation. . . . 
Mind is constituted when each sensation is assimilated to the 
faint forms of antecedent like sensations. The consolidation 
of successive units of feeling to form a sensation is paralleled, 
in a larger wa}", bj" the consohdation of successive sensations to 
form what we call the knowledge of the sensation as such, — to 
form the smallest separable portion of what we call thought, as 
distinguished from mere confused sentiency." "The cardinal 
fact" as to the "composition of mind" is that "while each 
vivid feeling is joined to, but distinguished from, other vivid 
feelings simultaneous and successive, it is joined to, and iden- 
tified with, faint feelings that have resulted from foregoing vivid 
feelings. Each particular color, each special sound, each sen- 
sation of touch, taste, or smell, is at once known as unlike other 
sensations that limit it in space or time, and known as like the 
faint forms of certain sensations that have preceded it in time, — 
unites itself with foregoing sensations from which it does not 
differ in qualit}', but onl}- in intensity." 

" On this law of composition depends the orderly structure of 
mind. . . . Because of this tendenc}" of vivid feelings severally 
to cohere with the faint forms of all preceding feelings like them- 
selves, there arise what we call ideas." Simple notions are 
formed in this way ; complex conceptions are " clusters of feel- 
ings joined with the faint forms of preceding like clusters." 
Then "complexity," with its wonderful power, produces the 
Jdgher ideas of the soul. "Groups of groups coalesce with 
kindred groups of groups that preceded them ; and in the higher 
types of mind, tracts of consciousness of an excessivelj' com- 
posite character are produced, after the same manner. . . . 
This method of composition remains the same throughout the 
entire fabric of mind, from the formation of its simplest feelings 
up to the formation of those immense and complex aggregates of 



, Chap. VII.] SENSATIONALISM AND ASSOCIATIONALISM. 53 

feelings which characterize its highest developments." Thus all 
intellectual life is developed from, ichat are^ objectively^ loccves 
of molecular change^ propagated through nerve centres ! 
The simpii- 2. The best refutation of such plnlosoph}' as Spen- 
cityaTid _ cer's is to be found in the direct observation and 
o/these ^ ^ impartial analysis of the facts of mental life. A 
theories. coursc of true ps3^cbological study reveals the exceed- 
ing inadequac}' of all those theories which are founded on a 
one-sided appreciation of facts, and which owe their existence 
chiefly to the ingenuity of their authors. Yet, having discussed 
materialism, we shall add a few observations on those kindred 
schools of opinion which, uniting with materialism, form a de- 
lusive trinity. 

First, we remark that the strength of sensationalism and 
associationalism lies mainly in the simplicity of their fundamen- 
tal principles, and in their conformitv to ordinary and objective 
thought. Our minds naturally look with favor upon simple theo- 
ries. Knowing that the ultimate is alwaj's simple, we incHne 
to accept the simple as the ultimate. Explanations of this char- 
acter, moreover, are quickly comprehended and easily applied ; 
for which reason, if the^^ can be supported by any argument, they 
are sure of some favor. Tlie fact that sensation is closely re- 
lated to our outwardly directed thinkings, and often mingled with 
them, has led men to regard the sense-affection, resulting from 
the influence of external objects, as of the same nature loith the 
perception and the m^emory of these objects ; and from this be- 
ginning they have gone on to explain even the highest spiritual 
activities as the inward reproduction of sensations. Others, again, 
observing in the sequences of inward life the constant operation 
of the principle of association, — the most apparent of the laws 
of mind, — have attempted the complete explanation of mental 
activity hy means of this law. The case would be paralleled in 
physical science by the philosopher who should profess to explain 
all phenomena by means of the law of gravitation. 
They fail as Notwithstanding the simplicit}^ and plausibihty of 
explanations the doctriucs uudcr consideration, the objections to 
of thought, ^j^^, iutelligent acceptance of them are insuperable. 
One principal difficulty is that these theories fail grievously 
as explanations of the phenomena of thought. Let us sup- 
pose, for a moment, that some of our ideas can be iden- 
tified with bodil}' feelings and their modifications ; it 3'et seems 
absurd to say that such conceptions as those of substances, 
spaces, times, powers, relations, numbers, and such ideas as 
those of person, agent, right, dut}", interest, are merely "im- 
pressions " produced by the impact of external objects. These 



54 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. YII. 

things are not the objects of any sense. We m^y be directly 
cognizant of them., but not physically sensible of them. Sensa- 
tions cannot plausibly be identified with any notions save with 
those either of the sensations themselves or of the sense-affecting 
operations of matter, — the agents, powers, places, times, and 
other conditions involved being excluded. It is inconceivable 
that our ideas of these conditions should be constituted out of 
any feelings or clusterings of feelings. The associationalists 
perceive this difficult}^ ; but. Instead of recognizing its insuper- 
able character, they discard some of the radical conceptio7is of 
the human mind as the illusions of unphilosophic ignorance, 
and give very inadequate accounts of others. 

For example, the systems of Mill and Spencer make no place 
for the notion of substance. Mill defines mind, not as a con- 
scious and intelligent substance, but as a " series of states of 
conscious7iess ; " and Spencer, not as a substance having feel- 
ings, but as a series ^'•composed of feelings and of the rela- 
tions between feeling s^^ every such relation being itself "a kind 
of feeling, — the momentary feeling accompanying the transi- 
tion from one conspicuous feeling to an adjacent conspicuous 
feeling." According to Mill, matter is not an actual existence, 
much less a substance, but only ^^ the permanent possibility 
of sensation ; '^ vfhMQ Spencer teaches that ^^ forces standing 
in certain correlations^' — that is, as externally opposuig those 
forces which have taken the shape of mind — ' ' form the whole 
content of our idea of matter." 

Spencer's account of our notions of relation, as feelings pro- 
duced by the transition from one sensation to another, is wholly 
inept. Relations, as such, can produce no feelings. These 
come only from some actions or operations in connection with 
which the relations are perceived. We hear two notes of music ; 
but we do not hear their similarity, their simultaneousness, or 
their successiveness, or their equality or inequality in loudness, 
pitch, or length, or any other relation between them. 

Then what singular conceptions of space and time are given 
by associationalism ! ' ' Each relation of co-existence is classed 
with other like relations of co-existence, and separated from 
relations of co-existence that are unlike it ; and a kindred class- 
ing goes on among relations of sequence. Finallj^, by a further 
segregation, are formed that consolidated abstract of relations 
of co-existence which we know as space, and that consolidated 
abstract of relations of sequence which we know as time." Does 
it require much thought to see that space and time are not of 
the nature of relations ., and that the former is not co -existence, 
nor the latter sequence f Not only so ; it is inconceivable that 



Chap. VII.] SENSATIONALISM AND ASSOCIATIONALISM. 55 

any feelings or association of feelings could constitute even 
those conceptions of existence, of co-existence^ and of sequence 
out of whieh Spencer would construct our notions of space and 
time. Such is the weakness of that anal3'sis of the phenomena 
of thought which is consequent upon the self-imposed restric- 
tions of sensationalism and associationalism. 
They fail to ^' '^^^^ incompetency of these forms of philosophy 
explain ^ may be further illustrated from the account they give 
and belief? of the knowledge and belief of the soul. While profess- 
ckin^^our '^^^ ^^ explain these phenomena, the}^ really explain 
fundamental them awav. According to these systems, memory is 
convictions, j^^rely ''the revivability of feelings," while convic- 
tion is the association of ideal feelings so strongly that they 
cannot be dissociated b}' an act of the will. Clearly, the revival 
or repetition of ideas is not all, nor even the essential part, of 
memory. In addition to this reproduction, there is the belief — 
not merely the thought, but the belief — that the ideas now 
present loere formerly experienced as perceptions of realities. 
This belief is something distinct in nature both from the ideas 
in connection with which it is exercised, and from their attraction 
for each other in the co-existences and sequences of thought. 

So, also, our convictions in general, though mostly involving 
the union of two conceptions, always imply more than this 
union^ and sometimes are exercised in connection with one con- 
ception 07ily. In every case, belief in the existence or non- 
existence of something is the essential element. When we say, 
*'Mr. Cleveland exists," there is as much belief as in sajing, 
" Mr. Cleveland is President ; " and in all simple affirmations of 
existence, we cannot properly be said to conjoin two objects of 
thought, but only to express our belief in the existence of one. 
Thoughts, too, m,ay he inseparably associated which are not the 
statement of any belief. The conceptions of an oft-repeated tale 
become as well linked together as if they constituted a true storj^, 
although, at the same time, they may be known to be purely 
fictitious. In short, neither feelings nor associations of feelings 
account for the phenomenon of belief. 

Sceptical But the exceeding evil of a superficial philosophy 

tendencies, jg manifest when, in consequence of its incompe- 
tency to explain the true origin and nature of thought and 
of belief, it justifies the rejection of some of the funda- 
mental convictions of the human mind. The logical thinker 
who starts with only the "impressions" of Hume or the 
"feelings" of Spencer, is brought at last either to the scepti- 
cism of the one or to the nescience of the other. When ideas 
are defined as the reproduction of internal changes corre- 



56 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. VIL 

spondent to external changes, — no element of existence being 
admitted save that of change, — there is left for us only the 
knowledge of appearances. What we perceive is no longer the 
phenomena, or varjing phases of real things, but phenomena 
which are falsely asserted to he separable from realities. 
Whether there are such things as substances in which these 
phenomenal changes occur, or such a thing as power to produce 
them, — in other words, whether beings and their attributes, 
properly so called, exist, — are points about w^hich we know 
and can know nothing. Such are the teachings of these s^'s- 
tems. This taking away of the ideas of substantial being, of 
power and attribute and causation, eviscerates the bod}' of 
human knowledge ; it leaves no object of belief save a thin 
phantasmagoria of appearances, covering emptiness onl}'. There 
are no powers, no beings, in this show}^ shadowy universe ; nor 
are there laws, save certain unexplained and inexplicable uni- 
formities of co-existence and of sequence ! And in regard to 
the recurrence of " phenomena," our only source of rational judg- 
ment is the tendency of frequently repeated impressions to recall 
one another ! It is astonishing that able men should propose to 
enlighten the world with doctrines like these. To any unsophis- 
ticated mind the absurdity of such doctrines is most apparent. 

We need not, in further antagonism to these delu- 
expianations sivc systcms, cousidcr their inadequate explanation 
andniotivity ^^ ^^^ emotions and motivities. Onl}' strong attach- 
ment to preconceived theories can sustain the belief 
that our feelings, appreciative of the sublime and the beautiful, 
of the befitting and the ludicrous, of the right and the wrong, 
the joj'ful and the sad, the lovely and the hateful, are but 
modifications of impressions on the senses. And what asso- 
ciations of outwardly excited impressions or appetencies can 
be supposed to produce contempt, anger, pity, benevolence, 
the thirst for knowledge, the love of power, the earnest pur- 
poses of self-interest, and the high determinations of duty? A 
satisfactory account of these experiences calls for factors 
which the mere contact of the soul with outer things cannot 
furnish. 

3. The foregoing discussion indicates the need of accurate in- 
trospection on the part of those who would philosophize concern- 
ing mind. Materialistic teachings begin with the error that the 
thoughts of our sensations are of the same nature with the sen- 
sations themselves. This might be admitted hy one w'ho would 
reject the greater absurdity that our higher and more rational 
thinkings are but modifications of sense. We see, however, no 
reason for any such admission. 



Chap. VII.] SENSATIONALISM AND ASSOCIATIONALISM. 57 

We will not say, absolutely, that there can be no likeness 
between a sensation and our present perception or subsequent re- 
membrance of it ; possibly there may be some similarity between 
two psychical states, related to each other as those in question 
are. Let us imagine a mirror capable not only of reflecting the 
appearance of a present object, but of reproducing this appear- 
ance when the object should be absent. Might we not allow 
that in such a case not merel^^ a correspondence, but also a sort 
of similarity, would exist between the appearance in the mirror 
and the object represented? So, if any one believes that there 
is a likeness between a present or past feeling and our knowl- 
edge or remembrance of it, it would be difficult to disprove 
such an opinion. 

Nevertheless, an object and the reflection of it, though in a 
certain respect similar, being totally unlike in their tnost radi- 
cal and important characteristics^ it would be absurd to affirm 
that they are things of the same nature. In like manner, even 
though some likeness, some similarity of formation, were sup- 
posed to exist between a sensation and our thought of it, this 
would not show them to be things of the same kind. 

That they are not, — that there is no proper com- 
propercom- munit}^ of nature between sensation and even that 
naturJ ^^ thought immediatel}^ concerned with it, — seems evi- 
dent from their contrarj^ characteristics. Sensations 
are obtrusive and vivid experiences ; when the}^ enter into our 
consciousness, the}^ occupy and control the mind ; our concep- 
tions of them, like our other thoughts, are comparativel}- quiet 
and unaffecting. Sensations are in great measure the passive 
effects of external causes ; our recollection of them arises wholly 
from the mind's own activit}'. Sensations are not subject to the 
guidance of the will ; our thoughts of them may be entertained 
or dismissed at pleasure. Sensations have all more or less 
defined places in the sensorium ; our ideas of them are not 
fixed in these places ; if they have any special habitation, it is 
with our other thinkings in the brain. In short, sensations obey 
laws of their own ; while our apprehension or remembrance of 
them is subjected to the laws of thought. 



58 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. VIII. 

CHAPTER VIII. 
THE ACTIVITY OF MIND. 

1. Haying dwelt at sufficient length on the subject of sense 
and questions connected with it, we proceed to the direct study 
of mind. We shall contemplate this power in its most general 
character first. Viewing its phenomena in this way, we find that 
the}" may be regarded either suhjectwely or objectively^ — that is, 
either merely as modes of psychical life, or as being also related 
to their appropriate objects. From either aspect interesting dis- 
cussions arise. For example, considering the intellect subjec- 
tively, two questions present themselves concerning its activit}'. 

One is. Are vje always consciously active? the other is, Are 
we ever unconsciously active f Sir WiUiam Hamilton answers 
both affirmatively. He thinks that the mind never ceases from 
conscious thought even in the deepest sw^oon or the soundest 
sleep ; and that, in addition to this conscious activit}^, there 
are manj^ mental movements of which we are unconscious. We 
incline to a negative answer in both cases, although we confess 
that the questions belong to a class which calls for moderation 
in our opinions. 

Are we ai- In aucicnt times the doctrine of ceaseless conscious 
wayscon-^ activity was taught by the Platonists, because, by 
tive?^o5n. means of it, they more perfectly contrasted ethereal 
lonsquotea. ^^\y.]^ "With, scuseless, inert matter. It was rejected 
by the Aristotelians, who made less use of assumptions and 
more of facts. Descartes held that the very essence of the 
soul consists in thought, or rather in conscious life, and there- 
fore explained our continued existence as consisting in our con- 
tinued activity. Leibnitz taught the doctrine of monads, — 
that the whole universe, both material and spiritual, is com- 
posed of ceaselessly active and energetic atoms. This deter- 
mined his view of the soul. He supposed, however, that our 
spirits, though alwa^'s active, are not alwa3's conscious. Dr. 
Porter maintains the view that the soul is constantly active, 
whether it be awake or asleep, and says that modern psy- 
chologists, excepting materialists only, are nearly unanimous in 
this opinion. Locke, on the other hand, contends that some 
men never dream at all, and that none are conscious that they 
dream continuously ; while Dr. Reid gives his own experience as 
follows ; — 



Chap. VIIL] THE ACTIVITY OF MIND. 59 

Having mentioned how, in his early da3's, by a determined 
effort, he had freed himself from a habit of uneas}^ dreaming, he 
adds: " For at least forty years after, I dreamed none, to the 
best of my remembrance ; and finding, from the testimony of 
others, that this is somewhat uncommon, I have often, as soon 
as I awoke, endeavored to recollect, without being able to recol- 
lect, anything that passed in my sleep/' Reid's philosophy of 
our activity during sleep may be understood from his further 
remarks: "I am apt to think," he says, "that, as there is a 
state of sleep and a state wherein we are awake, so there is an 
intermediate state which partakes of the other two. If a man 
peremptorily resolves to rise at an early hour for some inter- 
esting purpose, he will of himself awake at that hour. A sick- 
nurse gets the habit of sleeping in such a manner that she hears 
the least whisper of the sick person, and 3'et is refreshed by this 
kind of half-sleep. The same is the case of a nurse who sleeps 
with a child in her arras. I have slept on horseback, but so as 
to preserve m^' balance ; and if the horse stumbled I could make 
the exertion necessary to save me from a fall, as if I was awake." 
Opinions In regard to this question, we remark, first, that 

criticised. w^q opinions of those distinguished men who favor 
the unremitting conscious activitj' lose somewhat of their au- 
tliority by reason of their connection, severally, with unfounded 
notions. The Platonists would find it difflcult to show that an 
ethereal being might not rest as well as one of a gross nature. 
Descartes evidently errs in saying that the soul is thought ; it 
is tlie substance which exercises thought. Leibnitz can give no 
proof for the existence of his monads ; and the ceaseless activity 
of mind is not, as the words of Porter suggest, necessarily in- 
volved in its absolute immateriality. 

In the next place, the facts adduced in favor of the theory 
of unremittent and conscious action are easily reconciled with 
the opposite opinion. The marching of soldiers and the watch- 
ing of nurses while slumbering, and that consciousness of passing 
time which enables some to rouse themselves with tolerable cor- 
rectness at a prescribed hour, occur when sleep is not suflficiently 
profound to prevent all mental activity. A greater degree of 
somnolency than that experienced during such performances 
takes away the capability for them. So also in dreaming and in 
somnambulism the current of life is evidently moving, and the 
sleep is not perfect. Hamilton, after experiments made upon 
himself, alleges that if one is aroused while faUing asleep, he 
can always discover that he was in the commencement of a 
dream ; and that if awakened suddenly at any time during sleep, 
he finds himself in the middle of a dream. To this we reply 



60 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. YIIL 

that absolutely undisturbed sleep is probabty of rare occurrence ; 
that Reid and others testify to an experience different from that 
of Hamilton ; and that in those cases in which persons roused 
from deep sleep may find themselves dreaming, the dream may 
possibly have begun with the beginning of the disturbance. In 
most instances when we judge ourselves to have been dreaming 
long, our rest probably has not been very sound ; but it is 
also well known that a dream of hours can take place within a 
few moments. 

Jouffroy, the eminent French contemporary of Hamilton, com- 
ments on the fact that unusual noises or disturbances, even 
though slight, frequently prevent or break our repose, while 
customary sounds or movements have no such effect. It is diffi- 
cult at first to sleep amid the clatter and shaking of a railway 
train; custom renders this easy. "See," says Jouffroy, "the 
mind, the judgment, ever w^akeful, when alarmed by the 
unusual indications which come through the torpid senses, 
arouses or keeps alive the whole sensorium also." But here, 
again, there is onl}^ that partial sleep, that intermediate state 
between sleeping and waking, of which Reid speaks. Any 
inward feeling of novelt}', danger, or uneasiness acts upon the 
senses, just as the senses act upon the mind, so as to prevent 
perfect repose. The phenomena observed b}' Jouffroy suggest 
that body and spirit tend to icake Oi" to sleep together., the one 
with the other, rather than that the one slumbers while the 
other is awake ; for if the bodj^, or rather the bodily senses, 
were entirely dormant, the soul could not receive any indica- 
tions whatever from without ; and our consciousness of psjchical 
action during sleep generally shows a reduced activity of the 
higher powers of thought full}^ equal to that exhibited b}^ the 
powers of sense. 

But while the facts adduced in evidence seem insufficient to 
establish the doctrine of ceaseless activity, the}^ certainly sup- 
port the belief that the mind is active, though with but feeble 
energy, during much the greater part of sleep. Thej^ also agree 
with the opinion that spirit never rests of itself ^ but always and 
only because of its subjection to bodil}' conditions. When the 
wearied brain ceases from w^orking, then the soul sleeps ; 
possibly then onl}-. It ma3' be that disembodied spirits never 
tire. 

The common opinion that the deepest sleep is entirety dream- 
less and thoughtless is sustained b}^ the fact that our repose 
becomes more profound in proportion to the exhaustion of ner- 
vous energy, provided this fall short of excess and iujur3\ The 
action of the soul^sa far as it can be observed by consciousness, 



Chap. VIII] THE ACTIVITY OF MIND. 61 

obe3'S this law ; and it is natural for ws to expect an increaaing 
slowness of motion to terminate in absolute rest. 

Then, too, in swoons, and in the insensibilit}' produced by 
powerful anaesthetics, the mind seems to be perfectly inactive. 
In such cases the most severe operations performed on one's 
body excite no sensations or other psychical movements. Mental 
life is arrested for the want of those corporeal conditions which 
have been imposed on its present exercise ; but so soon as these 
return, it springs again into activity. In view of such facts as 
these, it is difficult to believe that the soul is alwaj^s conscious^ 
active. 

2. We now come to the inquiry, whether the soul is ever itncon- 
sciously active. Tliis question is not whether experiences of 
thought or of motivity may not unconsciously impress the mind 
with tendencies to similar modes of experience. This is admit- 
ted ; and it proves the existence of a power which is very different 
from those which directly manifest themselves in consciousness, 
but which perhaps operates onlj' in immediate connection with 
the activities of our conscious powers. 

Nor do we now ask whether there are " mental modifications" 
attended with a very shght degree of consciousness. No one 
denies that. Often trains of thought pass through our minds 
which engage our interest so little that if asked what we are 
thinking about, we reply that we are thinking of nothing. The 
mental energ}' has been so feeble that we cannot recall a single 
idea. For a similar reason most dreams are immediatel}^ for- 
gotten ; so that frequently, even when we can say that we have 
been dreaming, we find it impossible to tell what we have been 
dreaming about. 

The question is, lohether there he mental activities of a simi- 
lar nature to those of conscious Ufe^ of ichich^ hoicever, ice are 
xitterly unconscious at the time of their taking place., and which 
are manifested aftervmrds through effects of which ice are con- 
scious. We state the question in this waj^ because the idea of 
mental movements which never manifest results in consciousness 
may be set down as highl}' improbable, and because the faculty 
of consciousness is so close a beholder of ps3'chical changes that 
positive evidence is needed of the occurrence of activities with- 
out its sphere of observation. These considerations throw the 
''burden of proof" on the advocates of unconscious "modi- 
fications;" and this burden has been accepted by them. 

Hamilton uses three arguments in support of his position. 
The first is founded on the fact that no sense can consciously 
perceive any object smaller than a certain minimum. Vision 
results from the reflection of light ; but if the surface of an 



62 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. VHI. 

object be diminished beyond a given limit, the object becomes 
Invisible. " Therefore," argues Hamilton, " each part must act 
so as to make up the visibilit}' of the whole. Here, consequently, 
are minute modifications of mind, of which we are entirety uncon- 
scious. We cannot see one forest-leaf at a distance, but the 
multitude of them together produces an extended view. The 
distant murmur of the sea is made up of parts, anj^ one of 
which b}' itself would be entirely inaudible. The taste of sweet- 
meats, the odor of flowers, the soft touch of velvet or of down, 
ma}' each be considered as the result of an infinity of unfelt 
modifications." 

This reasoning is well met, as we think, by a distinction made 
by Dr. Porter, between the affection of the organ of sense and 
the affection of the mind consequent upon it. The united influ- 
ence of man}' leaves or waves or particles may be needful to 
bring the organ into a condition which qualifies it to excite a 
sensation in the mind. But anything less than the perceptible 
minimwin might pjroduce its attenuated effect upon the nerve 
without moving the mind in the least. In like manner, during 
swoons and times of absolute insensibility, there is an action 
of the nervous S3'stem too weak to affect the mind, yet sufficient 
to sustain various functions of the bod}'. Then, also, in addi- 
tion to the foregoing, we may question whether an infinitesimal 
force can produce any movement even in the nerves. 

Hamilton's second argument is connected with t^ie law of the 
association of ideas. Let A, B, and C be three thoughts, of 
which the first and the last have each been associated with the 
second, but never yet with each other. In this case A may sug- 
gest B, and B may suggest C ; but A cannot suggest C save 
by first suggesting B. Now it may happen, says Hamilton, 
that A suggests C without our having any consciousness of B. 
This last-named thought, therefore, must have taken place as a 
latent modification of mind. If one billiard-ball strike another 
at the end of a row of similar balls arranged in a straight line 
and touching each other, — the blow being given in the exact 
direction of the line, — the intermediate balls do not move ; 
only the farthest ball is propelled forward. After this fashion 
one idea suggests another, "the suggestion passing through one 
or more ideas which do not themselves rise into consciousness." 
Sir William, thinking of Ben Lomond, instantly thought of Prus- 
sian education, and could not imagine why. After reflection, he 
remembered that he had met a German gentleman on the top of 
that mountain. This remembrance appeared to him to furnish 
the lost link by which his conceptions had been unconsciously 
connected. 



Chap. VIIL] THE ACTIVITY OF MIND. 63 

We do not question the fact of the immediate successiveness 
of the ideas in tlie mind of so accurate an observer ; but can we 
be sure that the mountain summit and Prussian education had 
not previous!}^ at all been connected in his thinking? Is it not 
possible that the subject of Prussian education, having been 
suggested by the appearance of the German traveller, had en- 
gaged the Professor's consideration somewhat at the time when 
he met the gentleman on the mountain ? Nothing could be more 
natural than this in the case of Sir William. But if this were 
so, the instance cited would only be one of the ordinary associa- 
tion of thought. In short, we would account for the apparent 
want of connection, often noticed between successive ideas, 
either by reference to a previous and temporarity forgotten 
association, or else by that rapid oblivion which frequently over- 
takes such links of thought as do not, while passing, secure our 
interest and attention. It is difficult to conceive how the mind 
can think, even in the feeblest way, without at the same time 
knowing that it thinks ; this, of course, also in a way correspond- 
ingly feeble. 

The last argument of Hamilton is derived from our acquired 
dexterities. When one pla3'S rapid 1}^ on a piano, or other musi- 
cal instrument, he seems to strike many notes — especially in a 
familiar piece — from habit, and without thought of the indi- 
vidual motions. At times even the chief attention of a practised 
performer may be occupied with objects not at all related to his 
playing. Some have accounted for this by ascribing the activity 
wholl^y, or nearly so, to the bodj^ acting automatical!}^ and under 
the influence, though not under the direction, of the mind. This 
explanation excludes mental modifications, whether conscious or 
unconscious. But it is incredible. We would accept the idea 
of latent modifications in preference to it. There is alwa3'S, we 
believe, something intellectual in our dexterities ; their apparent 
automatism is similar to what takes place when one reads aloud 
to others sentences, and even passages, which make no impres- 
sion on his own mind, — that is, no impression such as can be 
recalled. Drs. Keid and Hartley endeavored to explain these 
activities by a force of habit, a proneness of spirit, operating 
without thought. The}- Mken this to instinct. But we question 
whether even instinct acts without any thought. There is no 
understanding of its end, but there is some notion of its imme- 
diate work. 

The views of Professor Stewart on this subject seem, on the 
whole, preferable to an}^ others. He holds that actions originally 
voluntar}' (and therefore also intellectual) alwa3's continue so, 
though we may not be able to recollect every particular volition 



64 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. VIII. 

of a series. He thinks that an act of the will precedes every 
motion of every finger of the musician ; and compares the skill 
of the plaj'er to that of the accountant who sums up, almost at 
a glance, a long column of numbers, retaining no knowledge of 
the individual figures. The instantaneous forgetfulness accom- 
panying such mental work is experienced by every student. 
How^ often, after a page has been rapidl}^ perused, it is difficult 
to repeat one sentence — nay, even one word — the author's 
matter, only, remaining in the memory ! This inability to recall 
the details of each successive act of mind is to be explained b}^ 
reason of the exceeding ease and quickness of the intellectual 
performance, and from the corresponding slightness of attention 
given to each particular ; it is not the result of any uncon- 
sciousness. So, likewise, when we say that an earnest speaker 
is unconscious of his delivery, we mean that he pays no atten- 
tion to it, and that his consciousness of it is weak, disregarded, 
and without effect ; but not, in the strict sense, that he has no 
consciousness of it at all. That there is a shght consciousness 
is evident ; for if some accessory on which he has been accus- 
tomed to depend — a pencil, a watch-chain, a buttonhole, a 
pocket-handkerchief, a coat-tail — be removed from reach, it 
is instanth^ missed, and some time passes before the previous 
degree of unconsciousness is regained. In like manner, should 
some ke}^ of the piano become accidentally broken and fail to 
respond to the quick touch ; should some figure in the column 
of addition be found illegible ; should some word be omitted or 
even wrongly spelled on the printed page, — the want would be 
immediately perceived, and would induce an attentive and 
deliberate consciousness. 

One qualification, perhaps, might render Professor Stewart's 
explanation more entirely satisfactory. He sa3^s that the slow 
and the rapid operations "are carried on in precisely the same 
manner, and differ only in the degree of rapidity." This rapidity , 
is the chief difference ; but we believe that there is also some- 
what of a change in the mode of the mind's thinking. We are 
of opinion that combinations, which at first furnish the objects of 
several successive thoughts, often come to be comprehended in 
one complex idea^ or in one complexity of co-existing ideas, and 
that this rem,ains and operates in the 7nind till it has been fully 
realized in action. Thus a whole bar of music before its execu- 
tion, or a whole sentence before its utterance, may be included 
in one easy apprehension. But in the case of any complex 
conception, our attention does not rest successively on its sev- 
eral parts, but on the conception as a whole. This suggests that 
although minute actions are objects of thought, they jQt may 



Chap. IX.] MENTAL STATES AND MENTAL ACTIONS. 65 

not be the objects of separate and independent thought ; and if 
such be the case, there is still less room for wonder that they 
are not individually remembered. 

Finally, supposing — what we do not believe — that some psy- 
chical operations entirely escape our observation, this would not 
prove that such operations occur outside of the sphere of con- 
sciousness, but only that they have been overpassed and neg- 
lected within it. If such a doctrine could be proA^ed, it would 
show that our power of internal cognition, like our power of 
external cognition, may wholly lose sight of familiar objects be- 
cause of the presence of others more interesting and impressive. 
Some show of argument could be made for this theory. But 
there is no evidence for the assertion of Hamilton, that "the 
sphere of our conscious modifications is only a small circle in 
the centre of a far wider sphere of action and passion, of which 
we are only conscious through its effects." 



CHAPTER IX. 

MENTAL STATES AND MENTAL 'ACTIONS. 

1. Frequently, both in philosophic and in ordinary discourse, 
we distinguish between the states and the actions, and also 
between the processes and the products of the intellect. The 
consideration of these distinctions may contribute to clearness of 
thought ; and, with a similar end in view, we may profitabl}^ 
discuss the question, whether the mind is capable of having 
a plurality of states, or of performing a plurality of actions, 
simultaneous!}/ . 

Question 1^1 speaking of states, we do not refer to those 

defined morc or less permanent conditions of our psychical 

-Action fliTici i. •■' 

state dis- powers whlch manifest themselves in modifications of 
tmguished. ^^^ activit}^ and which exist during our inactivity. 
There are such states ; for example, those of vigor and of 
feebleness, of liveliness and of dulness, of soundness and of 
insanit}^, of immaturity and of development. We now refer 
only to those states of mind of which we are immediatel}^ con- 
scious, and which themselves are the manifestations of our 
immanent faculties and dispositions. Thus doubt, certaint}^ 
conviction, belief, knowledge, ignorance, are states ; while per- 
ceiving, recollecting, judging, imagining, are actions. 

5 



66 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. IX. 

This distinction between mental states and mental actions is 
a real one, j'et is neither so great, nor of the same character, as 
that between action and state in the material world. It is not, 
for instance, like that between the action of chemical agents 
and their state, or condition, after their action on each other has 
taken place. It is more like that between seeing and beholding, 
between merel}'^ touching some object and feeling it. In short, 
an intellectual state may he regarded as a coyitinuous activity^ 
and an intellectual action as a momentary one. The latter 
either terminates at once or is the beginning of a mental state. 
We believe that consciousness reveals activity in every psychical 
condition, and that when any conception or subject occupies the 
mind, there is elicited a continued exercise of power. There is 
sometliing analogous to that condition of excitement, that state 
of motion, produced in the luminiferous ether by a light-giving or 
a light-reflecting body. As the retina of the eye is continuously 
affected b}^ the rapidly successive waves of light, so the idea of 
the object obtained through vision appears to be a continuous or 
rapidly repeated mental activit3\ The thoughts awakened and 
maintained in the mind bj the sense of sight, when we may be 
attentivelj^ regarding the objects corresponding to them, may 
properly illustrate all intellectual states. Gazing, for example, 
at a flaming candle or a flying arrow, we see the slightest vari- 
ations in its figure- or place, its most delicate flickerings and 
motions ; and from such observations we infer that continuous 
thoughts resemble the reflections of a mirror rather than any 
states of positive rest. 

Process and The distinction between the processes and the pro- 
product, ducts of the intellect is somewhat similar to that just dis- 
cussed, and presents an important difference in modes of mental 
activit}'. It is the distinction commonly made between /brmm^ 
a7i idea., or conception, of an object and the idea when formed ; 
and it is paralleled in the difference between forming an aversion 
or an attachment, and the aversion or attachment when formed. 
Both processes and products are modes of thought, and do not 
differ radically in nature. They are not related to each other 
as mechanical processes and their products are. The carpenter's 
skilful use of tools and the desk or table which he ma}' make, 
are things of totall}' different natures. But Defoe's final and 
fixed conception of Robinson Crusoe's castle, and the various 
thinkings of his mind which resulted in that conception, w^ere 
not essentially unlike : they were both mental activities. Yet 
we distinguish the process and the product. The former alwa3's 
precedes the latter, and ma}' be so imperfect or feeble as to fail 
of a result, in which case there is no product. The process is 



Chap. IX.] MENTAL STATES AND MENTAL ACTIONS. 67 

composed of successive parts : the product has a more perfect 
unity ; its parts constitute one thought. The product often can 
be easily and fully recalled, when the process may have been 
forgotten and lost in obscurity. The process consists commonly 
of a series of actions ; when any of these is prolonged into a 
state, it may be regarded as a partial product, awaiting the union 
of other parts. The product, though it may be emplo3^ed and 
then immediately dismissed, is frequently used as a mental state 
around which other thoughts arise. 

Sometimes in experience it is easy to discriminate between 
product and process ; in other cases this is difficult, because of 
the rapid transition of the one into the other. In adult sense- 
perception the result is so instantaneous that no process is 
ordinarily perceptible. Yet undoubtedly the infantile mind, in 
forming ideas of material objects, emploj's a series of sensations 
and judgments, some of the latter also being the gradual acqui- 
sitions of experience. The instantaneous sight of a man, a tree, 
a house, an animal, is the work of trained or educated percep- 
tion. The processes which precede mental products are perhaps 
more discernible in the workings of the rational faculty than in 
those of any other. We see plainly how the thoughts which 
follow one another in a definition coalesce so as to form the 
notion defined ; and how, after the frequent use of an attributive 
judgment, its elements unite so as to produce a changed or an 
enlarged conception. Thus, having several times opened some 
book, and found it printed in the German language, we there- 
after, on seeing it, think of it as a German book. 
Product and ^^ should be careful not to confound the distinc- 
obj.ectdistin- tiou between process and product with that between 
^""'^ ^ • the process, or act, and the object, either of perception 
or of conception, or of any other exercise of thought. Sir 
William Hamilton, following Continental authorities, and others, 
following Hamilton, have fallen into this error. We may cite 
one passage out of many. In his " Logic," having stated that 
ordinarily "conception means both the act of conceiving and the 
object conceived," Sir Wilham adds : "I shall use the expression 
' concept ' for the object of conception ; and ' conception ' I shall 
exclusively employ to designate the act of conceiving." In these 
and similar statements the product and the object of thought are 
plainly identified ; which is yet more evident from the fact that 
the term ' ' concept " is avowedly and invariably used by Hamil- 
ton as the equivalent of the term "notion." This mistake is 
palliated by its connection with difficulties, which we shall con- 
sider hereafter, pertaining to " ideal objects ; " yet it is undoubt- 
edl}^ a mistake. A mental product, no less than a mental act or 



68 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. IX- 

process, is simply a mode of thought, and is not the object of its 
own exercise of thought. 

This power of the intellect to put the result of its thinkings 
into permanent, or rather reproducible, ideas is of the highest 
necessity and utility. Without it, progressive science, and 
even fixed knowledge of an}' kind, would be impossible. Our 
conceptions would be in the perpetual confusion . of formation 
and of dissolution. No work could be accomplished b}' the 
imagination ; the materials would fall to pieces as soon as 
they had been put together. Memory', too, if it acted at all, 
would present fleeting and formless elements of thought, rather 
than serviceable recollections. And the rational faculty, being 
deprived of fixed notions, would strive in vain after anj^ knowl- 
edge of the universe. 

This abilit}' to form mental products might \Qvy properly 
be called the acquisitive poti^er of the mind. It has not till 
latel}^ received due attention from psychologists. As Presi- 
dent Porter remarks, it is " clearly distinguishable from the 
power to know," or to think. It should certainly be reckoned 
among the subsidiarj^ or secondar}^ powers of the intellect. 

2. Philosophers in past times have been greatly 
have^ore divided as to the number of states or actions possible 
thoughts for the mind at an}' one time. The saying is a com- 
at'^nc"? mon one, that we cannot attend to more than one thing 
quoted"^ at oncc ; and it certainl}' is true that the human mind 
is incapable of considering different subjects simulta- 
neously. This useful practical observation, and certain sup- 
posed requirements of the doctrine of the essential oneness and 
simplicity of spirit, have led to some extreme opinions. Dr. 
Thomas Brown, the eloquent colleague and successor of Pro- 
fessor Stewart in the chair of philosoph}' at Edinburgh, in his 
eleventh lecture, sa3's : " If the mind of man, and all the changes 
which take place in it from the first feeling with which life com- 
menced to the last with which it closes, could be made visible to 
an}' other thinking being, a certain series of feehngs alone — 
that is to say, a certain number of successive states of mind — 
would be distinguishable in it, forming, indeed, a variety of 
sensations and thoughts and passions as momentary states of 
the mind, but all of them existing individually and succes- 
sively to each other." 

The views of Stewart, though differently expressed from those 
of Brown, were radically' the same. With characteristic moder- 
ation he teaches that we cannot "attend at one and the same 
instant to objects which we can attend to separately." He 
thinks that the ' ' astonishing rapidity " of thought is sufficient to 



Chap. IX.] MENTAL STATES AND MENTAL ACTIONS. 69 

explain the apparent simultaneity of mental operations. He 
asserts that a good musician does not attend to the different 
parts of a harmon}- at once, but varies his attention from one 
part to another, his thoughts being so quick as to allow no per- 
ception of intervals of time. According to his theor}', when one 
pla3''s rapidl}^ on the piano, and also sings, reading both song 
and music from a book, his perception of the notes, his reading 
of the words, his execution on the instrument, his vocalization 
of the language, his hearing of the music and of the poetrj^ his 
enjoyment and understanding of the melody and of the senti- 
ment, and the various thoughts and feelings which accompany 
these things, are all, not simultaneous, but successive. So, too, 
when the complete figure of an object is painted on the retina, 
the mind perceives it only by a great number of diff"erent acts 
of attention performed with marvellous celerit}' ; " for," says 
Stewart, " as no two points of the outline are in the same direc- 
tion, every point by itself constitutes just as distinct an object of 
attention as if it were separated b}^ an interval of empty space 
from all the rest." 

The assumption that the attention of the mind can act only 
along one geometrical straight line at a time, and therefore not 
on a surface or an outline, seems entirely without probabilit3\ 
Stewart says that if this were not so, "we should, at the first 
glance, have as distinct an idea of a figure of a thousand sides 
as of a triangle or a square." But does this follow? Surely the 
power to perceive three, four, five, or six objects at a time, and 
to give them each some measure of attention, does not imply 
a similar power as to a hundred or a thousand ? The opinions 
of these distinguished Scotch professors appear to have been 
handed down from disputations of the schoolmen. Thomas 
Aquinas, Albertus Magnus, and others upheld the aflfirmative 
of the question, Possitne intellectus noster plura simul intelli- 
gere? The negative was maintained by Duns Scotus, Occam 
the Invincible, and others. 

Hamilton's discussion is very complete. He approves of the 
opinion of some French philosophers, that we can perceive dis- 
tinctl}' six separate objects, or six separate groups of objects, at 
once. " If," he says, " you throw a handful of marbles on the 
floor, you will find it difficult to view at once more than six or 
seven ; but if 3'ou group them into twos or threes or fives, you can 
comprehend as man}^ groups as you can units, because the mind 
considers these groups onl}' as units. It views them as wholes, 
and throws their parts out of consideration." A similar experi- 
ment might be tried with printed words ; for the eye can dis- 
tinctly grasp a word of eight or nine letters without any trouble. 



70 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. IX. 

The prevailing opinion at present is that the intel- 
ative^main"- lect is capable of a simultaneous pluralit}* of states or 
m*"t^ t"d 3-ctivities ; and this view agrees with experience. We 
undoubtedly can perform several actions at once. If 
this be so, maj^ not the ideas which cause them be simultaneous 
too? When we rub one hand upon the other, the sensations as 
well as the actions appear to exist together AVhen one looks at 
the branches of a tree, the boards of a fence, or even a group of 
persons, only metaphysical subtilty can suggest that the}' are 
not seen at once. The stress of thought may easily be concen- 
trated on one of the objects ; but so long as no special interest 
is excited, all are viewed alike. 

The perception of relations, also, requires a single comprehen- 
sive perception of the objects related. How could we form any 
idea of a relation if we did not at the same time think of the 
objects between which the relation may exist? Who could con- 
ceive of marriage without also having both husband and wife in 
mind? In like manner everj^ sentence, with its subject, predi- 
cate, copula, and modifying words, must be considered as the 
expression of one complexity of ideas. We ma}-, it is true, 
compose part of a sentence without having a definite concep- 
tion of the remaining part ; but it is also true that we could not 
even begin the construction of a sentence if we did not, from 
the first, have thoughts, more or less definite, of the plurality 
of objects involved, and of their mutual relations. When Cicero, 
in the commencement of his oration for Archias, said, " Si in me 
est ingenium, judices," he certainly understood well in what way 
he was about to continue and to terminate that long, graceful 
sentence, and had in view the several parts of it and their mutual 
connections. 

A simple experiment, illustrative of this point, can easil}^ be 
tried by any one. Let him take some statement, the sense of 
which he fully comprehends, and let him think only one thought 
in it at a time. He will find that, in doing so, he loses also 
the meaning of the statement. For example, in the sentence 
"Caesar conquered the Gauls," we ma}' think of Caesar, of 
conquest, and of the Gauls, separately ; but we fail to possess 
ourselves of the assertion if we do not think all thi'ee thoughts 
together. 

Moreover, those mental products which we call complex ideas 
are comjjosed of many constituents^ each of them an idea hy 
itself hut all of them existing sim,ultaneously in composition. 
The vast majority of our thoughts are such combinations. Nor 
can we find any important difference between them and the col- 
lection of ideas contained in them, save this only, that the 



Chap. IX.] MENTAL STATES AND MENTAL ACTIONS. 71 

constituent ideas exist and adhere together. The analysis of 
any common conception — that, for instance, of a coin, a knife, 
a book, or a pen — will illustrate this remark. 

We think, therefore, that a belief in the co-existence of men- 
tal states is conformable with facts. And why should it not be 
so? A ball of iron may, at the same time, receive and transmit 
heat, be influenced bj- gravitation, attract the magnetic needle, 
move onward through the air, displace opposing obstacles, and 
perform man}" other functions. Whj' may not the soul, an infi- 
nitely more subtile substance, act in many ways at once ? Indeed, 
to one exercising attentive consideration, the question arises 
whether the possible rapidity of the soul's successive movements 
be not surpassed in wonderfulness by the possible multitude of 
its co-existent activities. 

At the same time we are far from saving that the 
disTin-^ mind has the power of directing its attention equally 
thought ^^^^ to man}^ objects at once. Not every act of intellect is 
accompanied with that special exercise of vigor which 
is commonl}' called attention. Hence the inquiry, whether we 
can attend to many things simultaneousl}^ is to be distinguished 
from the inquiry, whether we can think of many things simulta- 
neously. As a good sportsman can onl}' bring down one or two 
or three birds at a time, though a whole covey may rise before 
him, so the mind, while many thoughts may be present to it, can 
address itself to the consideration onl}" of a few. It is to be 
noticed, also, that a concentration of the power of thinking on 
one object sensibly loithdraws it from other objects , While one 
looks carelessly upon his open hand, all the fingers ma}" be seen 
distinctly ; but if he attend particularly to a point or mark on 
one finger, the perception of the others is immediately weakened. 
In the case of complex ideas, in which a whole is formed out of 
several constituents, the full attention of the mind probabl}' can 
be given to the conception in all its parts ; generally, however, 
one element becomes specially prominent ; and this appears to be 
alwaj's the case where the conception is made a subject of stud}-. 
Every human mind has a certain limited amount of intellectual 
energ}". This can be devoted almost entirely to one thought, 
leaving but a small residuum for division among other thoughts 
that may exist within one's consciousness ; or if the energy be 
directed towards several objects, the share given to each is less 
in proportion to their number. We can conceive, however, of a 
mind of infinite energy, whose knowledge most perfectly and 
fully, and at the same instant of time, comprehends every object, 
and every part of every object, in the wide universe. 



72 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. X. 

CHAPTER X. 

THE OBJECTIVITY OF THOUGHT. 

1. The chief importance of thought does not arise from its 
character as a mental experience, but from the fact that it is the 
instrument of knowledge, — the agency b}^ which the soul is 
brought into conscious relations with the universe. The whole 
wonderful life of man as a spiritual being originates from 
thought ; and this, too, simply because thought brings the soul 
into connection with being in its various forms. 

It is of the very nature of thought to have that peculiar 
relation to existence which is indicated in saving that thought 
is the reflex of existence: every thought, however feeble, is 
thus related to some being, or form of being, which is, therefore, 
st3^1ed the object of the thought. That essential characteristic 
of thought b}' reason of which it is correspondent to existence, 
may be called the objectivity of thought. 

"Being" and "existence" are terms exactlj' equiv- 
" being^™^ alcut to cach other in their proper and original use ; 
and ''exist- ^nd, as such, thc}^ are emplo3'ed in two different senses. 
Their abstract meaning is expressed when ice speak 
of the being or existence of anything^ or when w^e predicate being 
or existence of anything, saying, "It is," "It exists," or, "It has 
being," " It has existence." Thus, if asked about the Emperor 
of China, we might say that we know that there is such a per- 
son, or that such a person exists. With this abstract sense of 
these terms we shall have more to do hereafter. Their other 
meaning is that which they have when emploj'ed concretely. 
They then signif}^, not the attribute of being or existejice^ but 
whatever possesses this attribute as having it ; in other w^ords, 
anything which exists. The human bod}^ is a material, and 
the human soul a spiritual, existence ; and we speak of an ex- 
istence and of existences, of a being and of beings, and, using 
the terms collectively, of existence in general, and of being in 
general. 

In this concrete sense the terms are employed both with a 
na,rrower and vrith a vnder application. In the narrower, the}'' 
signify any kind of substantial existence, whether spiritual or 
material. God, angels, men, mountains, seas, plains, are beings, 
or existences. But it is to be noticed that in this signification 
the term " being " is not used so freelj^ as "existence" for every 



Chap. X.] THE OBJECTIVITY OF THOUGHT. 73 

kind of substance ; it is generally restricted to living beings. In 
the wider application, " being" and "existence" signify anything 
whatever that exists ; and in this sense the word "existence" 
is generally preferred to the word " being." Thus space, time, 
power, actions, changes, and relations, as well as material and 
spiritual substances, are existences ; and all things whatever, 
taken collectively, constitute existence in general. Now, when 
we say that every thought has objectivity, and is related to 
some form of being or existence, we use these terms, not in 
their abstract, hut in their concrete sense, and that, too, in this 
last and most unrestricted application; for there is no form 
of existence which does not iind its reflex in a corresponding 
form of thought. 

The relation 2. This relation between thought and the existence, 
between or form of existence, to which it corresponds, is of a 
objects of^^ peculiar nature, and should be distinguished from all 
thought. other relations. It is not the relation of an effect 
to a cause ; for the object of thought is wholl}^ inactive, and 
the exercise of intelligence is the work of the mind itself. 
Neither is it that of the conditioned to the condition : exist- 
ence is a condition of thought, in a certain sense ; but the cor- 
respondence in question is a relation other than this. A mirror 
cannot form a reflection without an object, but the correspond- 
ence between reflection and object is distinguishable from the 
dependence of the former upon the latter. Again, the relation 
of thought and object is not that of similarity. Things which 
are utterly unlike may yet correspond. One part of an inven- 
tion may correspond to another, as a ke}^ to a lock ; an instru- 
ment may correspond to its use, as an oar to rowing ; or a sign 
may correspond to the thing signified, as a printed to a spoken 
word. But this does not involve any similarity. The corre- 
spondence between thought and its objects is probably closer 
and more minute than an}- other correspondence ; but so far as 
we can judge, there is no likeness between them. What resem- 
blance can there be between hardness and the idea of hardness, 
sharpness and the idea of sharpness, weight and the idea of 
weight, soHdity and the idea of solidity? What similarity is 
there between the Roman people, with their history of war and 
empire, and our knowledge of that people? 

Mind is so different from matter that we cannot suppose our 
conceptions of material things to be like the things themselves ; 
and as for psychical objects, we know that our ideas of actions, 
desires, emotions, virtues, vices, weaknesses, and abilities have 
no likeness to these things. The only thought in which we can 
discover any similarity to its object is the thought of a thought, 



74 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. X. 

for in such a conception the original thought is repeated and 
incorporated. This likeness, however, is accidental. 

Moreover, it is insufficient to say that the relation between 
thought and its objects is one of correspondence. To say that 
food is useful to man does not express its peculiar mode of use- 
fulness. So, in this case, the term '•'- correspondence'' does not 
express the full essence of the matter; there is also a simple 
and indefinable peculiar! t3^ At the same time the nature of the 
relation in question is well known and easily understood. When 
a merchant sa^'s he is thinking of some enterprise, we know 
what he means, and perceive the relation between the enterprise 
and his thought. We see, too, how this relation arises out of, 
and belongs to, the ver^^ nature of thought, and how it con- 
tributes to make thought a moving and impelling power. 

We sfive the name " obiectivity " to that character- 
"objectivity" istic of thought which we regard as the most essential 
fectuaiity " ^^^^ distinguishing, because we can find no other name 
more appropriate. It may be said that the term is 
more properly applicable to that which is the object of thought 
than to thought itself To this we reply that thought it- 
self, as related to its object, is in a certain sense connected 
with it, and therefore is sometimes styled objective. For ex- 
ample, speaking of some idea of the imagination, we may say 
that although of subjective origin, it has in it, nevertheless, an 
objective reference. If authoritj^ be needed to justify our use of 
language, that of Sir William Hamilton may suffice. In his 
*' Logic," distinguishing two inward experiences, knowledge 
and belief, he saj's : "The one is perspicuous and objective; 
the other is obscure and subjective." He sa3's, also, that error 
often arises " from the commutation of what is subjective with 
what is objective in thought." In these statements the term 
"objective" corresponds exactly with our objectivity. Could 
any better term be found, we would gladly use it. 

Here let us remark that it would be advantageous to distin- 
guish, b}^ our use of terms, between the character of thought as 
related to its object., and the character of any object^ or part or 
quality of an object., as related to our thought of it. When it 
should be desirable to indicate the latter character unequivo- 
cally, we would suggest the use of the word " objectuality." 
We might then sa}- that thought, as such, has objectivity, but not 
objectuality ; and that existences, as the objects of thought, 
have objectualit}', but not objectivit3\ 

Our doctrine ^^ raying that thought always has objectivity as a 
specifically part of its csscncc, we do not mean to affirm., liter- 
stated. ^iiy^ ^^^^ thought always has objects. We often 



Chap. X.] THE OBJECTIVITY OF THOUGHT. 75 

have thoughts without any true or real objects whatever ; and 
we sometimes have conceptions to which no reality ever has 
corresponded or ever shall correspond. We mean only that 
the nature or form of thought has that peculiar correspondence, 
alreadj^ mentioned, with the nature or form of things ; and that, 
so far as w^e have thought, it corresponds in its forms with forms 
of existence. This statement would hold though the universe 
were annihilated or had never been created. The conception 
of a universe 3'et to be, would correspond with the nature of that 
universe. An infinite mind might conceive of ten thousand 
systems, each extremely different from the existing cosmos, and 
having marked peculiarities of its own ; yet in every case the 
conception would correspond in its formation with the formation 
of a system of things. Any psychical state which should have 
in it no reference to any form or mode of existence could not be 
a thought, but would be something totally different. Objectivity 
belongs to the very essence of thought. 

3. The foregoing doctrine is so easily and imme- 
diictiveiy-' diately inferred from an examination of our thinkings 
tiieVf™ni- ^^^^ formal proof of it seems scarcel}^ needed. Let 
tionai origin any ouc make the trial ; he will find that he cannot 
ideas.^^"^ ^^'**^^ ^^ ^^^ ^/*Ae do not either think of something or 
as if of something. Yet this truth may be further 
illustrated, and may be maintained against objections, by one 
or two confirmatory statements. The objectivitj' of thought is 
involved in the fact that the elementary origin of all our ideas 
is to be found in our perceptions of actual existence. Study 
shows that the constituent elements of our most fanciful and 
our most abstract, no less than those of our more common and 
matter-of-fact, conceptions are all derived from our cognitions 
of the real and actual. Imagination is a constructive facultj^, 
and can work only with materials furnished b}^ the powers of 
immediate knowledge. The most extravagant combinations 
of i^oetry and romance are formed from thoughts acquired in 
actual experience. In like manner our abstract notions and our 
general fundamental principles are all obtained from cognitive 
thought b}^ certain mental operations. Sometimes conceptions 
are thus formed to which no real objects agree, — whose correla- 
tives, in one sense at least, would be more perfect than any real 
objects ; but this is done by certain intellectual diminutions and 
additions whereby we lessen the degree of some attributes and 
add to the degree of others, not by the creation of new ele- 
ments of thought. So also, by the well-known process of gener- 
alization, the mind forms its fundamental ideas and judgments 
from immediate and concrete cognitions. Such thoughts as space, 



76 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. X. 

power, time, change, substance, and our judgments setting forth 
the necessary relations of these things, are first entertained by 
the intellect, not as general notions or truths, but as elements 
in the perception of particular facts and objects. 

Modern philosophy has done a great service to mankind in 
establishing the doctrine that gerteral ideas and truths are., in all 
cases., derived from the actual and the particular. This was one 
immediate result of the investigations of a famous man, a junior 
contemporary of Descartes, and an equaUy independent thinker. 
John Locke, about the year 1660, abandoning the scholastic phi- 
losophy in which he had been educated at Oxford, sought for a 
more satisfactory theory of thought and knowledge. With strong 
native good sense he accepted as ultimate the reliabilit}^ of our 
immediate perceptions, and found the source of all knowledge 
in what he called " sensation and reflection," — that is, in our 
external and our internal cognitions. In so doing, he struck 
the true line in which all satisfactory progress in modern meta- 
physics has been made. As to the special point under discus- 
sion Locke expresses himself as follows : " The dominion of man 
in this little world of his own understanding is much the same as 
in the great world of visible things ; wherein his power, however 
managed by art and skill, reaches no further than to compound 
and divide the materials that are made to his hand, but can do 
nothing towards making the least particle of matter, or destroy- 
ing one atom alreadj^ in being. The same inabilitj^ will any one 
find in himself to fashion in his understanding any simple idea 
not received by the powers which God has given him." 
Proved from ^' -^o^^^^' ^^^^ forms of thought are correspondent 
an analysis with fomis of existence is evidenced by the fact that 
structions'of ^^^ ^^^Y ^vcry idea, but also every construction of 
theimagina- ideas, SO far as really and distinctly made, is of that 
which is possible to be. So far as elementar}^ concep- 
tions are concerned, this would follow from the fact just con- 
sidered, that such conceptions are derived from cognitions of 
the actual. The actual is always possible. On the same ground 
it is clear that any combination of ideas must be made up of 
constituents corresponding to various simple modes of existence, , 
and that all our ideas, therefore, at least so far as respects their 
materials, have objectivity. 

The question, however, remains, whether our complex concep- 
tions as wholes are always of things possible ; and this inquiry 
is important. For if only the possible is conceivable, then 
possible constructions of thought are limited to possible con- 
structions of existence ; and this would give an additional signi- 
ficance to the doctrine of objectivity. Nor is the proof of this 



Chap. X.] THE OBJECTIVITY OF THOUGHT. 77 

point so difficult as might be supposed. In our cognitions of 
fact we perceive^ in actual operation^ the laws of the necessary 
and the possible ; and in this way we become qualified to judge, 
in any case, whether things corresponding to our conceptions 
would conform to those laws or not. We hold that intellectual 
constructions, so far as the}' may be actually and distinctly 
made, always represent possibiUties. Complex conceptions ma}^ 
indeed be formed whose parts ma}^ be more or less contradictory, 
and which could not therefore have any reality corresponding to 
them ; but we believe that in such cases the contradiction is 
left out of the conception., and the construction of thought, 
so far as it really takes place, is of the possible. 

By reason of certain laws of Nature, a man could not live with 
mermaids under water in the caves of the sea ; but should we 
leave those obstructive laws out of consideration, the conception 
presents a certain kind, or degree, of possibility. On this the 
imagination builds. It is the duty of a poet, first, to avoid ab- 
surdities ; but if this cannot be, then to conceal them with all 
the art at his command. He can combine onl}^ ideas of things 
possible. That pure impossibilities are inconceivable may be 
shown b}^ experiment. Tr}' to conceive — that is, to think fully 
and distinctly — of two neighboring mountains without any val- 
ley between them ; of the co-existence in duration of the first 
and the last moments of an hour, or days of a 5'ear, or years of 
a century ; or of an equilateral quadrilateral, one of whose angles 
only is a right angle, the rest being either acute or obtuse. 
Endeavor to suppose that three dollars might be equal to five, 
or that they might be less or more than three ; that a man might 
literally be another man, or might not be himself; that a travel- 
ler might go from one city to another, or an angel from one star 
to another, without passing through the intermediate space ; that 
a statement can, at the same time and in the same particulars, 
be both true and false ; or that a substance can be both existent 
and non-existent at once. Such trials as these will convince one 
that the conception of the impossible is itself an impossibility^ 
and that, consequently, conceptions of the possible are the only 
possible conceptions. In other words, and more explicitly, we 
can think of things onW so far as the existence of them would 
harmonize with the necessar}- laws of being. 
Eeid's opin- I^^- I^^id, in the third chapter of his fourth essay, 
ion contro- argucs against the doctrine that we can conceive only 

verted 00 j 

of the possible. His chief reliance is the fact that we 
can understand the statement of an impossibility when made in 
the form of a proposition. He would admit that we could not 
conceive distinctly of a triangle two of whose sides taken to- 



78 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. X. 

gether would be exactly equal to the third side. But he saj's : 
*'I understand as distinctly the meaning of this proposition, 
' An3^ two sides of a triangle are together equal to the third,' as 
of this, ' Any two sides of a triangle are together greater than 
the third.'" 

It must be allowed that many statements of things impossible 
are intelligible, and also that there is no radical clifference be- 
tween understanding a proposition and conceiving it, or con- 
structing its thoughts into one notion. Nevertheless, we think 
that there are two different degrees or modes of understanding a 
statement, — the one partial and superficial, the other thorough 
and complete. According to the former, we conceive that a 
thing is or may be so ; according to the latter, not merely that it 
is so, but also how it is so. And we believe that propositions 
or conceptions involving impossibilities are constructed hy the 
mind only partially^ and only so far as they may contain ele- 
tnents of possibility. We can say, ' ' A man dwelt twent}^ years 
among the mermaids," or we can think of a man dwelling 
twent}' 3'ears among the mermaids, notwithstanding all the ab- 
surdity connected with the supposed existence of such creatures, 
and the living of a man in their submarine abodes. But, in 
doing so, all that is impossible or incredible in the case is treated 
with neglect. In the same wa}^ when constructing the proposi- 
tion, "Any two sides of a triangle are together equal to the 
third," we do not think closely or full}' of the sides and their 
relations. Regarding the two sides simply as two lines, we find 
nothing absurd in the idea that, as two lines, they are equal to 
a third line ; and although we recognize all the lines as sides 
of a triangle, we for the time leave out of view the necessitj- as 
to their comparative length which results from the shape of the 
figure. 

That things impossible can be conceived of only as now de- 
scribed, is evident also from the fact that the difficulty of under- 
standing a proposition increases in proportion to its flagrant 
absurdity^ and that a statement which has in it no element of 
possibilit}' is unintelhgible and void of sense. The mind wholly 
refuses to construct the conception of three and two being six, 
even though two numbers often, b}^ addition, make a third. In 
like manner the assertion that ' ' the three sides of a triangle are 
equal to a pound of butter, a loaf of bread, and a beefsteak," 
cannot be understood at all. Why? Because it has in it no 
element of possibility. It would be a dangerous rule to say that 
whatever can be imagined distinctl}^ is possible, as some philos- 
ophers have taught ; but undoubtedly nothing can be conceived 
of which has not in it some element of possibilit}^, whether it 



Chap. XL] THE ULTIMATE IN THOUGHT. 79 

have also elements of impossibility or not ; and it can be thought 
of onl}' so far as it has elements of possibiUt^^, the impossibilities 
being left out of view. Since, therefore, all our ideas concern 
either the actual, in the perception of which they originate, or 
the possible, or the impossible onl}- so far as it may contain ele- 
ments of possibility, it is clear that all thought has that peculiar 
correspondence with the forms of existence which we have called 
objectivity. 



CHAPTER XI. 

THE ULTIMATE IN THOUGHT. 

1. Viewing thought in general as objective, and without ref- 
erence to a7iy difference in faculties or in objects^ the question 
arises. Is it exercised in one mode only, or in several? in 
other words. What are the ultimate modes of thought? We 
are of opinion that there are three such modes, — that vje can 
think of things^ first, as existing, secondly, as non-existent^ 
and thirdly, without reference either to their existence or to their 
non-existence ; and we regard this statement as a cardinal point 
in the philosophy of mind. 

The doctrine generally taught at the present day 
quoted"^ allows only one ultimate mode of thought, — namely, 
Porter^K^eid *^® thinking of things as existent. For example, Sir 
' * William Hamilton sa3^s : " No thought is possible ex- 
cept under the category of existence. All that we perceive or 
imagine as different from us, we perceive or imagine as objec- 
tively existent. All that we are conscious of as an act or modi- 
fication of self, we are conscious of only as subjectively existent. 
All thought, therefore, implies the thought of existence. . . . 
Thinking an object, I cannot but think it to exist ; in other 
words, I cannot annihilate it in thought. I may think away 
from it, I may turn to other things, and I can thus exclude it 
from my consciousness ; but actually thinking it, I cannot think 
it as non-existent ; for as it is thought, so it is thought existent." 
President Porter expresses similar views, and even asserts that 
all thought, or "knowledge," as he terms it, involves the affir- 
mation of existence. He says : " After every property or rela- 
tion which we know of an object is set aside from any existing 
thought or thing, there remains the affirmation, ' It is.' This can- 
not be thought away." Against these and other authorities, we 



80 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XL 

can quote only an old paper of Eeid's, published by Dr. McCosh 
in his " Scottish Philosophy" (p. 475). In order to illustrate a 
distinction in axiomatic principles, and without attaching special 
importance to his illustrations, Reid sa3's : "There are other 
first principles in which the predicate is not contained in the 
notion of the subject ; as where we affirm that a thing which 
begins to exist must have a cause. Here the beginning of exist- 
ence and causation are reall}^ different notions, nor does the first 
Include the latter. Again, whe7i I affirm that the body which 
I see and feel really exists^ existence is not included in the no- 
tion of the body. I can have the notion of it as distinct when 
it is annihilated. . . . Existence is not included in the notion 
of anything." 

Some terms ^' ^^forc proceeding further with this discussion, 
defined. it may contribute to clearness of statement should we 
Existence, ^jgflj^g q^j. ^se of scvcral terms. And first, as to that 
existence which we have distinguished as attributive. Nothing 
can add to the simplicity of this idea, or make it more intelligible 
than it is to every mind. But we may remark that though called 
attributive, this abstract existence has not a common nature 
with those attributes which are said to exist in existing subjects. 
These attributes are entities, which existence is not ; and in 
predicating them, we presuppose both their existence and that 
of their subjects. Nevertheless, as existence, like an ordinary 
attribute, belongs to a subject, and ma}^ be predicated of it, this 
fact may be properlj^ indicated by the term " attributive." 

There are not two kinds or modes of attributive existence, 
but, as we shall see more full}^ hereafter, onl}" one, — that is, real 
or actual existence. Imaginary existeoice is merely a figurative 
or secondary expression which states that we have the thought 
of the existence of some object which does not exist. Potential 
existence has nearly the same meaning ; but it implies also that 
the object, though non-existent, may or can exist. 

Another term to be defined is "entit}-." The differ- 
" ^ ^* ence between abstract, or attributive, and concrete 
existence has been alread}^ noticed. It is often desiral)le to ex- 
press this difference b}" using two different names ; and for this 
reason the term "entit}^" has been employed to signify con- 
crete existence, — that is, not existence., but that ichich exists ; 
while the term " existence" has been used exclusively to desig- 
nate the being of any entity, as predicable of it. The word 
*' entity" signifies the same as the word " thing" in the widest 
application of the latter term, according to which we speak of 
all things or existences. Not only substances, but spaces, times, 
powers, actions, changes, relations, are entities ; for all these 



Chap. XL] THE ULTIMATE IN THOUGHT. 81 

things exist. Tliis distinction between the terms "entity" and 
"existence" is useful, and will be maintained in the remainder 
of our discussion. 

Non-exist- Again, the term "non-existence" expresses an 
ence. important notion. This notion is as simjoJe and 

underived as that of existence. It is indicated by the relative 
name "non-existence" — signifying that which is not existence, 
or that which is diverse from existence — because the whole 
importance of non-existence lies in the fact of this diversity ; 
while existence has importance per se. Were this not so, our 
method of naming these two things might be reversed. 

In thus speaking of existence and non-existence as if the}'- 
were things^ or entities, we simply yield to necessity' ; language 
affords no other mode of expression. All other objects of 
thought than these two have that in them which is not existence 
but which exists, and are therefore things, or entities ; these 
are sui generis. We cannot regard existence — much loss non- 
existence — as an entity. Yet it is clear that both of them may 
have an ohjectuality^ and may therefore^ in a certain quali- 
fied sense^ he called objects ; for in a case of existence we can 
positively perceive and say that something is, and in a case of 
non-existence we can perceive, just as positively, that some- 
thing is not, or that there is nothing. There are facts of ex- 
istence, and there are facts of non-existence ; and both of 
these equally may be the objects of knowledge, — for it is just 
as much a fact that there is no bread in the house, when that 
may be true, as that there is bread in the house, when that 
may be true. 

Existence and non-existence, both as conceptions and as ob- 
jects, are related to each other somewhat as emptiness and 
fulness, or presence and absence, are related to each other. 
Neither of them is derived from the other ; each has a nature of 
its own. They are also mutuallj^ conflictive and contradictory ; 
for a thing cannot be both existent and non-existent at the same 
time, and must be either the one or the other. 

We may notice, in passing, the apparent absurdity of our lan- 
guage, according to which we often say that " a thing does not 
exist" and that " nothing exists." For example, the statements 
that " Gold does not exist in coral reefs," and that "No gold 
exists in coral reefs," seem to assert that an entity does not ex- 
ist, and that a non-entity does exist. But the contradiction is 
only superficial ; for the negative particle, though attached to 
the predicate of the first sentence and to the subject of the 
second, in both cases really qualifies the lohole statement. It 
is used only once, because in each case it is necessarily under- 

6 



82 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XL 

stood to apply to both subject and predicate. The truth is more 
perfectly expressed in those languages which in such cases use 
two negatives, saying, "There is not no gold," or "No gold 
does not exist ; " for, speaking explicitly, only entities can exist, 
and only non-entities can be non-existent. 

Form, or ' ' Form " is another term of which some slight use 

schema. seems ucccssary in the present discussion. Let us 
mean b}' it anything viewed as to its whole entit}^, or content, or 
make-up, but without reference to its existence or non-existence. 
Let the form of any object signifj^ all that is included in the ob- 
ject save its existence onty. Some philosophers have used the 
term in this sense, but it has more frequently been employed in 
another signification ; and it is important that the two meanings 
be distinguished. 

Any object or entity (for example, an apple) ma}^, with refer- 
ence to its parts or attributes, be conceived of either definitely 
or indefinitely. In the first of these waj^s the peculiarities of 
the parts or attributes enter into our conception of the object, 
and so we think of it as being what it is, — that is, an apple ; in 
the second we neglect its peculiar characteristics, and conceive 
of it merely as a thing. The content of an entity, or the entity 
itself, as thus definitely" conceived of, has been called its form ; 
while the same content as indefinitely conceived of, has been 
called its matter. This distinction arises, not from any differ- 
ence in the nature of objects, but from a difference in our modes 
of conception ; and according to it, the xQxy same thing may be 
either form or matter, — form, when thought of definitelj' ; and 
matter, when thought of indefinitel3\ And should we think of 
the same object at the same time in both waj's, we should think 
of it as both matter and form ; or should we definitely conceive 
of only some of the attributes or constituents of a thing, simph'- 
allowing for the rest as so much indiscriminate entity, we would 
regard the object as part matter and part form. Form, in the 
sense now explained, is always contrasted with matter ; both are 
aspects of entity. 

But, in the present discussion, form is not contrasted with 
matter ; it stands for entity conceived of in any wa}", only with- 
out reference to its existence or non-existence ; and the contrast 
is between the whole form, or nature, or constitution, or con- 
tent of a thing (however conceived of), and its existence; 
in other words, between the whole thing and its existence. 
Now, as nothing is more obstructive to correct thinking than 
words with double meanings, we make bold, at this point, to 
propose an innovation in philosophic language. Let us call an 
entity, thought of without reference to its existence, a schema^ 



Chap. XL] THE ULTIMATE IN THOUGHT. 83 

and the conception thus entertained by the mind a schematic 
conception. The terms " schema " and " schematic " may not, in 
themselves, be any better than the terms " form " and " formal ; " 
but they have, at least, a diflferent sound. Those, of course, who 
hold that the notion of existence is an element in all thought, 
must deny that we can conceive of forms, or schemata, in the 
sense now described ; but we are convinced that the mind some- 
times uses such conceptions. 

3. We are now ready for a detailed presentation of the doc- 
trine that there are three ultimate modes of thinking, and that 
the human mind uses its conceptions now in combination with 
the thought of existence., again in combination with the thought 
of non-existence., and yet again without the addition of either 
of these thoughts. 

Positive con- 1^'irst, then, it is not disputed that the majority of 
ceptions. our conceptions do contain the idea of existence as 
a constituent element. This happens whenever we think of 
anj^ of the contents of the actual universe as such ; whether 
substances or powers, actions or changes, spaces or times, 
quantities or relations. These are thought of as having past, 
present, or future existence. 

So, also, in positive conceptions unaccompanied by belief, the 
thought of attribiital existence, united to some formal idea, gives 
to us the conception of '' an existing thing " when no such thing 
exists. As we can have the idea of the horse Pegasus when 
there is nothing to correspond to it, so ice can have the idea of 
the existence of Pegasus although he never existed, and we can 
combine these in one conception. In this wa}^ without any 
belief, we think of the heathen gods — Mercury*, for instance 
— as beings, or entities. Thoughts thus formed are said to 
be conceptions of ideal beings, or of beings in idea ; by which 
language we signify that there is no true existence in the case, 
but only the idea of existence. 

This thought of existence is also united, more or less loosel}^ 
to the conception of an object when we may be in a doubt, or 
have only a probable conviction, of the reality of something. 
For example, when one may be digging a well, the idea of water, 
until a spring may be struck, is not a sure conviction, but only 
a hope, a belief, of greater or less probabilit}', formed out of the 
conception of water as existing. 

Once more, we have conceptions of things as existing when- 
ever we regard them as possible or as necessar}^ Thus we may 
think of space as a necessary existence, and of death as an 
event possible at any time. The ideas of possibility and of 
necessity always involve that of existence ; for that only is 



84 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XI. 

necessary or possible which is necessary or possible to be. The 
thought of existence, therefore, enters into our conceptions of 
the actually existing, of the supposed or imagined, of the prob- 
able or doubtful, and of the necessary or the possible. 

Here, however, we must remark that not even all these con- 
ceptions involve the ""affirmation" of existence. It does not 
follow that all thought involves the affirmation of existence, 
because all thought is accompanied by the knowledge of its own 
existence. There is no affirmation of existence in the conception 
of the flying horse in the "Arabian Nights," though one may be 
sure that he entertains this conception. 

Negative I" the next place, we have ideas in which the 

conceptions, thought of nou-existeuce, instead of that of existence, 
is combined with our conceptions of the forms of entity. Let 
us suppose that a lambent flame is floating in the centre of the 
dome of St. Paul's Cathedral. In this case, of course, no flame 
exists, and there is no belief or affirmation of its existence. 
There is simpl}" the conception of the flame and its existence ; 
and this is connected with the thought of the cathedral. Let us 
now substitute for the foregoing another conception : let us sup- 
pose that there is no flame floating in the dom,e. What is the 
difference between these two suppositions ? Simpl}^ this : In 
the positive conception the thought of existence is attached to 
that of the flame ; while in the negative conception it is left out, 
and replaced b}^ that of non-existence. In like manner, without 
any polytheistic belief, we might couple the idea of existence, and 
then that of non-existence, with the formal conception of a ban- 
quet of the immortal gods on the summit of Olj-mpus ; and we 
would do the one or the other according to the use that we might 
wish to make, in thought or fanc}^ of that celebrated mountain. 
But, in general, we ma}^ say that the use of negative conceptions 
is parallel with that of positive conceptions ; so that the former, 
like the latter, ma}^ be met with in statements both of fact and 
of supposition, of probabilit}^, of necessity (that is, of impos- 
sibility), and of possibility. 

Pontes soiu- Here, however, we must allow that the idea of non- 
tionum. existence, although having a nature of its own, is 
seldom or never used save with some accompanying reference 
to its diversity from existence ; just as emptiness, when men- 
tioned, suggests fulness. When one saj^s that his purse is 
empty, or that there is no mone}" in it, his words naturally ex- 
cite a reference to another and more desirable state of affairs. 
But it is still true that in thinking of non-existing objects, 
we do not think of them as existing, or as if existing, even 
though we may not think of them without some reference to an 



Chap. XL] THE ULTIMATE IN THOUGHT. 85 

existence wmch the}' have not in fact or in supposition. The 
reference to existence in such cases is no part of our negative 
conceptions, but only an accompaniment. 

Neither does it conflict with the view now advocated that 
negative conceptions are all necessarily derived from positive ; 
in other words, that our ideas of things as non-existent are all 
formed from our ideas of things as existent. This is involved 
in the doctrine already taught, — that all our thoughts originate 
in the perception of things actual. The only difference between 
a positive and a negative conception is that in the latter the idea 
of non-existence takes the place of the idea of existence in the 
former. Thus only we distinguish between " a flame of fire" 
and " nof flame of fire." Even our most general negative con- 
ceptions are formed in this wa}^ "None" comes from "no 
one;" "nothing" from "no thing;" "nemo" from " ne 
homo ; " " nullus " from " ne uUus ; " " ovSet? " from " ov et? ; " 
" non-entity " from " entity." What is common to both modes 
of conception is the schematic thought. For this thought, once 
secured, is retained and employed when the schema itself may 
have ceased to exist. 

It is further to be allowed that our minds, even while using 
conceptions negatively^ tend also to use them positively. Non- 
entities — that is, cases of non-existence — of themselves never 
affect us. No man ever sought or avoided emptiness for its own 
sake. All power and life reside in entities ; and non-entities, as 
such, interest us, not because they are non-entities, but because 
they^ are 7iot entities. Only for this reason do they become ob- 
jects of either aversion or desire. Hence the tendency of the mind, 
especially when dwelling directly on any conception, to construe 
it positively. This may be accepted as an ultimate law of spirit- 
ual life ; and it explains not only why we so frequently think of 
things that are not as though they were, but why, even while 
thinking of non-existences as such, we tend also to think of them 
as things at least that may be. Such thought, however, is distin- 
guishable from the negative conceptions to which it is related. 
Formal or Fin all}', we scem in certain cases to think simply of 
schematic, the Schemata of objects ; that is, we think of objects 
conceptiona. ^j^^jjQy^ thinking of them either as existent or as non- 
existent. This mode of thought, it is to be acknowledged, is, 
for several reasons, diflScult of deliberate realization. The en- 
deavor to think two thoughts — the thought of the object (or 
form) and that of its existence — apart involves the necessit}^ of 
thinking them both at once, so long as this endeavor may be in- 
tentionally continued. Such an attempt, however, may settle 
the question whether we can clearly distinguish the two thoughts. 



86 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XI. 

If this be answered aflSrmativelj, it is likely that we can think 
them separately. 

Then that strong inclination, already mentioned, towards the 
exercise of positive thought militates against schematic even 
more than against negative conceptions, and causes the mind 
to strengthen the former with the idea of existence. Our sche- 
matic conceptions may be Ukened to those material elements 
which are seldom to be found save in combination with others, 
and which can be brought to view in separate existence only by 
special care. Language, also, increases our perplexity, because 
we have to use the same designations for objects, whether 
thought of with or without reference to their existence, — that 
is, for entities as such, and for the corresponding schemata. 

Nevertheless, if we recall and examine certain modifications 
of thought in which conceptions merely formal are used, we may 
renew these conceptions, and may perhaps be able to distinguish 
them from those of entities and of non-entities, somewhat in the 
same way that we distinguish the idea of man^ viewed simply., 
from those of man as a citizen and as an alien., — that is., as 
being and as not being a member of some State. 

For example, when the previously unknown exist- 
conception cuce of some objcct is asserted of it, the logical subject 
th?ni"ur?of ^^^"^^ *^ iucludc the Conception of the schema only. 
things Sim- Respecting a known entity, we may interpret the ex- 
offen^sepa-*^ prcssion, ''This pen exists," as an analytical judg- 
rateiy exer- mcnt ; but when the existence is a matter of new 
information, and we sa}', " Ej^eless fishes exist in the 
Mammoth Cave ; " or, " There is a race of men with onty one 
e3'e, situated in the centre of the forehead," our language seems 
to be ampliative, adding to the subject an existence not previ- 
ousl}' recognized as belonging to it. Or should we, in either of 
the above cases, assert, negativelj', that such objects do not exist, 
we would be joining the idea of non-existence to the subject. 

Moreover, when the mind is in doubt as to the existence or 
non-existence of things, is not this a hesitation as to the combi- 
nation of either the idea of existence or that of non-existence 
with the conception of the schema in a statement of belief ? 

Again, schematic conceptions appear to be used whenever our 
consideration is exclusively directed to the nature or quality of 
an entit}'. For instance, when we contrast the nature of a thing 
with its existence, the conception of the nature msiy be regarded 
as schematic. When we are taught that God is, and is the re- 
warder of those that seek him, we are led to distinguish his being 
from his character, and to think, in the first instance at least, of 
the nature, rather than of the existence, of the latter. 



Chap. XII.] IDEAL EXISTENCES. 87 

In like manner purely attributive words may be said to 
express schematic thought. When we sa}', "The man is 
cowardly," " The rose is red," the adjectives indicate merely 
form or quality. This is 3-et more evident in such expres- 
sions as "the cowardly man," "the red rose; " for in these 
the thought of existence attaches itself primaril}^ to the sub- 
stantive, being needed only there. 

Or should we compare two apples, both of which equally exist 
in all their parts and qualities, and say that they differ, the one 
being sweet and the other sour, we could scarcely be said to think 
of the existence of the sweetness and the sourness, — that is, so 
far as reference to these things is included in the thought of the 
difference, — because the apples diff'er not at all as to the exist- 
ence, but only as to the schema, or nature, of their qualities. 

Such is the doctrine of the three ultimate modes of thought. 
Some may find it difficult to see that we can think of the nature, 
or schema, of things separately from the thought of their exist- 
ence or that of their non-existence. But if we can agree that 
there are at least tivo ultimate modes of thought, into the one of 
which the idea of existence, and into the other of which the idea 
of non-existence, enters, and which have a formal, or schematic, 
part in common, the principal end of this discussion shall have 
been attained. 



CHAPTER XII. 

IDEAL EXISTENCES. 

1. The doctrine of the objectivity of thought has sometimes 
been stated too strongly. It has been said that thought is the 
reflex or the correlative of being, and that ever}' thought there- 
fore has a being, or entity, as its object. In opposition to such 
teaching, we hold that we have many thoughts which have no 
objects lohatever to correspond to them. There never were 
races of beings such as the dwarfish Lilliputians and the gigantic 
inhabitants of Brobdingnag. The wonderful stories of the "Ara- 
bian Nights " are mere conceptions to which no actualities ever 
corresponded. Novels, poems, dramas, are combinations which 
either refer but remotely to historical facts or have no such ref- 
erence at all. Even in dail}'^ life the golden prospects of youth- 
ful fancy and the more sedate anticipations of mature days are 
lilways of that which never has been, and very frequently of that 



88 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XII. 

which never comes to pass. It is clear that thought does not 
need the existence of an object apart from itself for its own ex- 
istence, and that it often actually takes place without the pres- 
entation of any object whatever. The doctrine of objectivity 
implies only that thought in all cases might correspond with 
entity, not that it alwa3's does. 

A difficulty ^^ the same time it is to be noticed that human 
in piiiiosophy language seems to impl}- that often, when there 
tbeTifture"^ are uo objccts of thought, thought provides objects of 
of thought, j^g own. We speak of ideal existences^ imaginary 
beings .1 fictitious scenes, supposed objects ; and, in connection 
with the ideas thus expressed, we emplo}' the same names and 
make the same statements that we w^ould regarding true and 
literal existences. We sa}' that Falstaff was an old courtier, fat, 
witt}', and unprincipled ; that Othello, the Moor, was a danger- 
ous, passionate man ; that Hamlet had a very discreet madness ; 
that Lear was a sad wreck of royalt3\ We express ourselves in 
this way while knowing that no Falstaff, Othello, Hamlet, or 
Lear, such as we think of, ever existed. Such language at first 
seems capable of easy explanation. It is quite common ; and 
the thought conveyed by it is instantly understood. Yet philos- 
ophers, when asked to define exactl}^ an imaginary object or an 
ideal entity, — that is, to state in literal language what we mean 
in speaking of Hamlet, the prince, or Lear, the king, — have 
found themselves at a loss. 

It is certain that these objects and beings have no existence 
apart from the ideas of the mind, and also that if they exist in 
connection with our ideas, they must be those ideas themselves. 
We cannot recognize any other entities — that is, true and literal 
entities — in the case than our own thoughts or thinkings. The 
question, then, arises. Are these ideal existences to be identi- 
fied with our ideas of them ? This solution has authority in its 
favor ; but there are difficulties in the way of accepting it. We 
believe that nothing exists in the case of an imaginarj' entity 
save the mental state or operation ; 3'et we find it impossible to 
regard the ideal object and the mental state as the same. When 
one tries to believe, not that the thought of Hamlet, but that 
Hamlet himself, is or was an idea, the mind refuses to act. We 
say, " Hamlet had a discreet madness." Did an idea have the 
discreet madness? Could an idea be fat and unprincipled? 
Could it be a revengeful Moor or a crazed old king? It maj^ be 
said that the ideal beings had such characteristics onlj^ in im- 
agination. But this does not help the matter. Ideas cannot 
have such characteristics even in imagination. 

The dififlculty here is deep-seated : it lies in the very nature 



CHAP.xn.] IDEAL EXISTENCES. 89 

of our modes of thought. When we think of Hamlet as an ideal 
being, we do indeed have the idea of his existence as a man and 
a prince. This idea, unaccompanied by any behef, is a part of 
our conception of Hamlet. But in thus thinking of Hamlet, we 
have no thought of the conception of Hamlet and of its exist- 
ence. This thought maj^ accompany or follow the other, but is 
distinct from it. Moreover, the thought of the conception is al- 
ways attended with belief, for the conception really exists ; but 
the conception itself of Hamlet is not attended with behef. 
Those, therefore, who say that Hamlet, as an ideal existence, is 
the idea of Hamlet, or the idea " Hamlet," attempt to unite two 
incongruous conceptions. They try to identif}" that in connection 
with which we have the thought of existence (the belief being 
excluded) with that in connection with which we have the belief 
of its existence. Such an endeavor must terminate in failure. 

We can indeed say that Hamlet is a conception of Shakspeare ; 
but in such a sentence "Hamlet" does not signify the ideal 
existence, the Prince of Denmark. The word is used in a sec- 
ondary sense; as when we sa}^ "Theft is a bad idea," we 
mean that the idea of theft, not theft itself, is a bad idea. 

In short, we hold that any philosophical definition 
defines^iid of an ideal existence is an impossibilit}'. When we 
oniy?eafities ^^^ "what an ideal object is, we mean. With what 
'can it be literally identified? This takes for granted 
that an ideal object can be, and is, an existing object. Hence 
the absurdity of the question, and the impossibilit}^ of an an- 
swer. Speaking soberly and philosophicall3% there are no such 
things as ideal objects and existences. They cannot be identi- 
fied with anything, and it is vain to inquire what they are. 

At the same time, when we speak and think of ideal things 
and beings, — of the heroes and events of poetry and romance, 
— our expressions and our ideas are actualities ; and philoso- 
phy may properly he called to explain this peculiar use of 
thoughts and loords^ and the perplexity which we experience in 
its critical consideration. 

Imagination is the power, the marvellous power, of the mind 
to think thoughts as if there were entities to correspond to them, 
even when there are no such entities. Though imaginative, or 
suppositive, thought differs from knowledge, or cognitive thought, 
as to pliability and permanenc}'' and motive force, and in the 
full normal working of the soul is especially distinguished by its 
want of any concomitant belief, 3'et, after all, as thought it is 
essentially of the same character with other thought. Supposi- 
tive is accompanied with cognitive thought when we are con- 
scious of imagining ; but this consciousness is not an element of 



90 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. Xn. 

the act of imagining. In suppositive thought we think an idea, 
— say Hamlet, — but we do not think of it at all. Imagination 
makes no subjective reference, but simply entertains thought so 
far as it might possibly correspond with objects. It endeavors 
to construct conceptions as nearly like those of cognition as pos- 
sible, and succeeds admirably. These acts of the imagination 
affect us more or less in a wa}^ similar to that in which cognitions 
or remembrances affect us. The lifelike experiences of Robin- 
son Crusoe, and even the incredible adventures of Baron Mun- 
chausen, move us in the same way, though not to the same degree, 
as if we knew them to be realities. Some explain this power of 
the imagination as the result of a momentary belief in the exist- 
ence of objects corresponding to our thoughts, — a belief which 
Professor Stewart maintains always to occur, and to be corrected 
onl}' by our more sober judgment. Probably the imagination 
itself, without the belief, has power to affect us ; but, however 
it is to be accounted for, the fact that we are affected is beyond 
dispute. 

Now when^ without any presentation of fact to our minds ^ 
we think the saine thoughts and are moved in the same way as 
when we perceive or remember existing things^ and then seek to 
express and communicate our thoughts., v)e naturally., spon- 
taneously., use precisely the same language as that in which we 
utter cognitive ideas. But the thought and the language thus 
employed are not the statement of facts, and do not concern ex- 
istences ; they are simply the exercise and the expression of the 
imagination. We think and speak in the same way as if we were 
thinking and speaking of things, and therefore seem to be think- 
ing and speaking of things. Whole stories are formed and told 
after this manner. Yet, in sober truth, we are not thinking or 
speaking of things at all. Strictly and in fact we are not think- 
ing of anything, for no object exists ; we are only thinking. 

If the foregoing account be correct, it is plain that our diffi- 
culties concerning hj'pothetical existences, ideal things, or im- 
aginary beings arise chiefly from our talcing thought and 
language according to its primary use., when it should have 
been taken according to a secondary use ; in other words, from 
assuming, without reason, that things exist corresponding to 
imaginative thought and speech. We employ ideas and terms 
properl}^ pertaining to real entities, — as when we speak of the 
little men and women in the land of the fairies, — while there are 
no entities of a kind corresponding to our thought. We have 
the names and the conceptions, — Macbeth, Hamlet, Lear, — 
while there are no such beings. Hence the expression that we 
think of ideal objects is not literally true. It is a metaphor, 



Chap. XIL] IDEAL EXISTENCES. 91 

founded on the similarity of suppositive to cognitive thought. 
The fact, literally stated, is that we think in the same way as 
if we were thinking of objects. To sa}-, "I think of Hamlet," 
means only, " I think as I would think if there were a Hamlet." 
This leads to the remark that imaginative thought 
^mWnSn ^ud its cxprcssion are rendered doubly perplexing 
oftvvokimis and delusiA^e from the fact that we unite them inti- 
°^^ ' mately with cognitive thought and its expression. For 
example, should one sa}' that he has been thinking of Hamlet 
and of Shakspeare, there would be a double meaning, not very 
easy to detect, in the expression " thinking of." 

A similar conjunction of suppositive and of cognitive thought 
takes place when we say that such and such objects — the fairies, 
for instance — exist in imagination, but not in fact. The word 
"exist" here has a double sense, or rather a double meaning. 
It is taken suppositively in the affirmative, and cognitively in the 
negative, part of the sentence. This difference in use is indi- 
cated b}' the phrases " in imagination" and " in fact." The full 
import of the sentence is that the statement, " The fairies exist," 
is one of suppositive thought, and not of fact, or of cognitive 
thought. But this meaning is given by the use of supi^ositive 
thought itself in the affirmative clause, accompanied b}^ an indi- 
cation of its true character, and of cognitive thoicght in the neg- 
ative clause, similarly accompanied. The expression "in fact," 
which shows the cognitive or assertive use of thought, is an 
emphatic repetition of the idea of existence, whereb}' we signify 
that it is used literally. To say that a thing does not exist in 
fact is simply to say that, speaking literally and truly, it does 
not exist. 

Again, it seems plain language to say, "Hamlet is an ideal 
existence," or "Hamlet is one of Shakspeare's heroes." Yet 
these statements are compounded partly of suppositive and 
partly of actualistic thought. We say, " Hamlet is an exist- 
ence," "Hamlet is a hero," suppositively; and then, in the 
first, we add actualistically the thought "ideal" to indicate, not 
the nature of any object, but the suppositive character of our 
thinking ; and, in the second, we use Shakspeare's name in the 
same way, to show both the suppositive character and the 
authorship of our conception of Hamlet. Such is the only ra- 
tional account of these and similar statements ; to interpret 
them throughout as the language of fact, or of belief, involves 
absurdities. 

Recapituia- 2. We have now discussed the question of ideal ob- 
dent p^T' J^^^^ ^^ existences. Respecting this subject, Presi- 
quoted. dent Porter says, " Scarcely any single topic has 



92 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XII. 

been more vexed in ancient or mediaeval philosoph}" ; " adding 
that the controvers}' concerning it either includes or trenches 
upon almost ever}' possible question in metaphysics. Manj'- 
notable and fundamental errors have originated in connection 
with this topic, and can be full}' understood and met only 
through a satisfactor}' understanding of it. The question, com- 
pletely stated, may be presented as a dilemma : Do ideal ob- 
jects exist f If they do^ lohat are they f If they do not^ why 
do we call them existences., and speak of them as such ? We 
assert that they do not exist, and that we call them existences, 
and speak of them as such, while knowing that the}' do not ex- 
ist ; or, expressing ourselves more accurately, we use the same 
thought and the same language that we employ respecting exist- 
ing things, while we know that there are no existing things to 
correspond with our thought and language. We therefore free 
ourselves from the question, What are they? 

Then, when asked, How do we come to think and speak as 
if there were entities? we answer that the human soul has a 
native power and tendency to exercise itself in such thought and 
language. This imaginative — or better, imaginational — use of 
thought seems sometimes wholly to occupy the attention of the 
mind ; but sometimes it is sensibly accompanied, and sometimes 
it is mingled and united, with actualistic thought. But it can 
always be distinguished from the latter. 

Three principal causes have co-operated to mislead critical 
inquiry as to the prior question, Do ideal objects exist? and 
thus error and confusion have resulted through an affirmative 
answer. First, the difference between imaginative and cogni- 
tive thought, and especially our power to conceive of existence 
and of existing things., or entities., loithout any attendant belief 
in their existence., have not been fully recognized. Secondly, 
our imaginations often, if not always, are accompanied with a 
delusive belief., or rather tendericy to belief in the existence of 
such objects as would correspond to them. This tendency works 
unobstructed in dreaming. And, thirdly, suppositive ideas and 
expressions are frequently so conjoined with those of knowledge 
or fact., that., finding ourselves thinking and speaking contin- 
uously., we lose sight of the diversity in our thought. But the 
truth is that the language of the imagination, whatever it may 
seem to say or to imply, never expresses knowledge or assertion, 
but suppositive thought only. Such is to us a satisfactory ac- 
count of the whole matter. 



CHAP.Xm.] BELIEF DEFINED. 93 

CHAPTER XIII. 

BELIEF DEFINED. 

1. We name thought and belief the primary powers of intel- 
lect chiefly because the importance of those powers which we 
call secondary is that they modifj^ the workings and results of 
thought and belief, while that of thought and belief lies in the 
ver}^ working and results of these powers themselves. The 
analysis and synthesis of ideas and of facts, the association of 
fancies and memories, the abstraction and generalization of 
notions and of truths, \hQ formation from a transitory process 
of a reproducible product of conception or conviction, are all 
operations subsidiary' to the main work of the intellect. The 
exercise of thought and belief is itself this work. Of these two, 
however, we may add that thought has a priorit}^ over belief ; 
for it is possible to exercise the former without the latter, but 
belief takes place only in connection with thought. 
Common Ian- ^^^^^ belief is exercised only along with thought, 
guageisnot the same word often covers the combined exercise 
auaytica. ^^ ^^ ^^^ powers : sucli tcmis, for example, as 
''perception," "judgment," "inference," always signify such a 
combined exercise ; while other terms, such as " belief" and 
"conviction," " apprehension" and " thought," which specially 
belong to the one power or to the other, through metonj'mical exten- 
sions or transitions, become positivel}' ambiguous. The ensuing 
discussion will illustrate these remarks. Yet we believe that the 
common intellect of men does not at all confound these powers ; 
it simply does not emphasize the distinction between them. 

In distinguishing thought and belief, as primary, 
bei?ef^to1!e from each other and from the secondary or subsidi- 
cjrefuiiydis- ary, powers of intellect, and in pointing out the de- 
pendence of belief on thought, we somewhat determine 
our conception of both these powers. In other words, we partly 
define each through an enumeration of characterizing relations, 
which is the onl}' way in which any simple mental power can 
be defined. The difference between thought and belief should 
be noted, because, as we have said, the terms "belief" and 
" believing" stand often for a combination of thought and be- 
lief, and not for belief simply. We sometimes even use the 
noun "belief" to indicate, not belief itself, but the form of 
thought which it may accompany ; for example, we speak of 



94 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XIII. 

the religious beliefs of mankind, and we say that such a reli- 
gious belief is entertained by such a person. This use of lan- 
guage exhibits the complete transition of a term from one 
conception to another nearly related. 

More frequently words indicating belief have merel}^ an ex- 
pansion of significance, so that they cover the united exercise 
of both the primary powers of the intellect. As, when one says 
he thinks that such is the case, he intends to sa}^ that he both 
thi7iks and believes that such is the case, so we can scarcely 
deny that the statement, " I believe that such is the case," maj'- 
mean that one both thinks and believes as stated. In lllvc man- 
ner the assertion, " Lincoln cherished belief — or a belief — in 
the doctrine of Divine Providence," may easily mean that he 
cherished both a conception of the doctrine and a reliance upon 
it as true. Similar variations of signification might be observed 
in other words which express credence, such as '' faith," " confi- 
dence," " trust." 

Nevertheless, we hold that thought and belief are different 
things, and we would maintain this distinction even though these 
things were never distinguished and opposed in ordinary speech, 
and were separated only in philosophical analysis. They are, 
however^ often contrasted in the statements of common life. 
For instance, were a man accused of theft without any evidence, 
men would allow that they had the thought of that evil action 
without any accompanying belief; and if proper proof were 
presented, they would agree that they not only understood the 
charge, but believed it. In this way the two things would be 
presented as clearly distinguishable. 

2. Belief, as thus distinguished, might be called 
inciudes^^^^'^ belief proper. It is that belief which is sometimes 
«J^^y^^^^FJJ described as "the receiving, taking, accepting, or 
■ holding a thing as true : " that is, the action of the 
power of belief is thus st3'led ; for in this, as in other simi- 
lar cases, the power and its action go by the same name. 

In the above statement the word "thing" does not signifj'the 
fact^ which may be the object of thought, but only the concep- 
tion of the fact ; for not the fact, but only our conception of it, 
can be taken or accepted as true. This is said to be received 
and held by the mind, because, in exercising behef, we think 
the thought of the object with an increase of attention and in- 
terest and purpose. And 3'et even this grasping of a concep- 
tion does not appear to be the essence of believing, but rather a 
characteristic result or accompaniment. The statement that the 
mind in credence rests or reposes on a thing as true is analogi- 
cal also, and marks the intellectual act by that cessation from 



Chap. XIII.] BELIEF DEFINED. 95 

doubt and inquiry which follows the acceptance of a proposition 
as true. No figurative expression, however, can indicate ex- 
actly the conception of belief, or even convey this conception, 
to any one who may not be already possessed of it. It is a 
peculiar and simple thought. 

Again, we remark that "belief," in the generic sense now 
contemplated, includes every degree of conviction, from the 
feeblest to the strongest. The merest presumption and the 
most absolute certainty are alike manifestations of this power. 
This is to be noticed, because when the degree, and not simply 
the nature, of intellectual confidence is prominent in our thought, 
the word " belief" frequently becomes limited in its application, 
and indicates a conviction not so strong as certaint}^ yet stronger 
than suspicion or presumption. Men say in regard to some 
statement that they believe it, perhaps firmly believe it, and yet 
are not perfectly certain of it ; or, on the other hand, that they 
have a mere surmise or conjecture, and not a positive belief, 
concerning it. The various degrees of credence are indicated 
by such words as "presuming," "conjecturing," "guessing," 
"supposing," "trusting," "thinking," "believing," "appre- 
hending," "seeing," "knowing," and the like ; most of which 
terms, however, evidently cover more than mere intellectual 
confidence. Yet while the term "belief" expresses tliis mod- 
erate degree of conviction, it is also used for conviction in 
general ; and these uses can-easily be distinguished. The word 
"conviction" has nearly the same meaning as "belief;" but 
strictly it signifies belief regarded, not simply joer se, but as pro- 
duced by the contemplation of evidence, for which reason it is 
seldom used in cases in which the evidence may be very slight. 

At this point it may illustrate our subject, and clear 
knowledge ^way some perplexities, to consider three several dis- 
variousiy tinctions wliich have been expressed by the opposition 
An errone- of the term "belief" to other terms, and principally 
^«s^<^istiuc- to the term "knowledge." The first has just been 
suggested. According to it, hnowledge is the most 
perfect form of conviction^ being both absolute and well- 
founded ; while belief is a less assured confidence. Knowledge 
of this description — such, for example, as that of one's own 
existence or of the existence of Queen Victoria — is closely 
allied to certainty ; for when one is fully certain of a thing, no 
evidence can add to the strength of his conviction. We may, 
however, be certain on insuflScient evidence, and then we do not 
know, but only think we know. We may be certain of what is 
not the fact, and such certainty is not knowledge. But when 
we have certainty, — that is, full and absolute belief, — and this 



96 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XIIL 

certainty rests on good and sufficient evidence, then we have 
knowledge. Knowledge is sXm^^ly well-founded certainty ; and 
belief, as contrasted with this knowledge, is conviction of some 
degree falling short of certainty. Plainly, these two things are 
of the same radical nature ; both are modes of belief in the 
generic sense. This is taught in the saying that ' ' to see is to 
believe ; " for to see is also to know. 

According to the second distinction, no less than according to 
the first, knowledge and belief divide between them the sphere 
of conviction, or of belief in general. Indeed, the second dis- 
tinction seems to have originated from the first ; for because 
we are certain of things immediately perceived, while generally 
our belief is less confident respecting things learned through 
testimony or rational proof, the conviction of immediate cogni- 
tion^ or that nearly immediate^ has been called knowledge, 
while that based on testimony^ or on evidence not immediate or 
obtrusive, is called belief. This distinction is important, and 
clearly different from the one already mentioned. It is that 
which the Bible makes between faith and sight. It may be 
roughly expressed by saying that knowledge is immediate, and 
behef mediate, conviction. But it is to be noticed that the faith, 
or belief, of this second distinction may, through sufficient and 
well-considered evidence, become the knowledge of the first dis- 
tinction, — in other words, perfect and well-grounded assurance. 
For if the evidence of a distant and unseen fact — as, for ex- 
ample, of the existence of Queen Victoria — be faultless, there 
is no reason why we should not be absolutely certain of it ; and 
this is knowledge. In the exercise of such faith, the man of 
God can say, " I know that m}- Redeemer liveth." 

Beside the foregoing distinctions, in which belief is contrasted 
with knowledge, there is another, in which it is opposed to both 
thought and knowledge^ and indeed to every accepted mode of 
mental activity. It is a distinction advocated by those who 
follow the teacliings of Kant concerning the limitations of the 
thinkable and the knowable. Hamilton, Mansel, and, others 
hold that the human mind cannot even conceive of things in- 
finite, and, consequently, that we can have no knowledge or 
belief, such as we have alread}' considered, and such as we 
commonly exercise, concerning God. To make room for the 
possibility of religion, they assert that there is a feeling, or faith, 
or belief, different from knowledge and independent of all 
thought, by which in some way man apprehends or la^'S hold 
upon the Infinite. This conception of faith, or belief, is little 
more than a device for the purpose of escaping from the con- 
sequences of an erroneous doctrine. 



Chap. XIII.] BELIEF DEFINED. 97 

It is not true that loe cannot have correct ideas concerning 
God^ and even concer7ilng his Infinity. The thought of an 
infinite or unUinited entity is by no means an impossibiUt}'. We 
can conceive of some object admitting of quantity — space or 
time, for example — as bounded; and after that we can con- 
ceive of it as not bounded^ replacing the positive by a negative 
characteristic. Ideas thus formed of things infinite especially 
occur in mathematics ; and they are neither futile attempts at 
thought, nor yet mere negative conceptions, but positive con- 
ceptions with negative characteristics. It is true we cannot 
conceive of any infinite entity as being finite in those respects 
in which it is infinite ; and therefore we cannot think of it as 
having various boundaries such as must always enter into our 
conceptions of finite objects. To attempt this maj^ be natural 
for us, as it is in the line of our ordinary modes of thought, but 
it is a waste of eflfort. Endeavoring to imagine infinite space as 
a vast hollow sphere or firmament, bounded by a surface, we 
inevitably fail. But this is not a failure to form a conception of 
the infinite. We therefore reject this so-called belief, or faith, 
as a useless and worse than useless fiction. The adoption of 
it, without evidence, in order to escape difficulties which origi- 
nate in error, can afford no lasting refuge from perplexity'. 
Like that huge fish on which Sindbad the sailor built a fire, 
supposing himself on solid land, and wliich soon left him to 
buffet with the waves, this faith can only afford a temporary 
resting-place for distressed philosophers. 

Theessen- 3. We now couic to a vcry csscntial point in the 
tiai point, philosophy of behef, — that is, of conviction in gen- 
eral. Although belief never exists save in connection with 
thought, and alwa3's has thought for its object, it primarily 
attaches itself either to the one or the other of two thoughts., 
and to other ideas only as they may have one of these thoughts 
contained in, or co7ijoined with them. These two cardinal 
notions are those of existence and of non-existence. Every 
statement of belief may be reduced to one of the formulas, " Such 
a thing is," and " Such a thing is not ; " and all cases of doubt, 
or of inabilit}' to affirm or den}' an understood proposition, arise 
from want of conviction as to the existence or the non-existence 
of something. We do not identify belief in the existence or 
non-existence of a thing with the thought of its existence or non- 
existence, but we sa}' that we always believe in such a thought. 

When we conceive of a thing as existing or as non-existing, 
and emphasize the notion of existence or of non-existence, the 
form of thought thus produced is a proposition, and ma}^ always 
be expressed b}- "• Hoc est," or •' Hoc non est." This proposi- 

7 



98 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XHI. 

tional thought^ per se, is merely eiiunciative ; it is not in any 
sense beliefs but only the condition or preparation for belief. 
In the exercise of it, we treat truth and falsehood very much 
alike. " The man is guilty " and " The man is not guilty" are 
equally complete propositions, though we may believe the one 
and disbelieve the other, or may have no conviction about either. 
But when, in the exercise of perception or judgment, we con- 
fide in, and rest upon, a propositional thought in its use as 
representative of things, this is the exercise of belief. Such a 
proposition then receives a new character : it is no longer a 
mere enunciation, it is an assertion ; and this power of inwardly 
asserting a proposition — of mentally accepting, holding, and 
presenting it as a statement of reality — is the main character- 
istic of belief. It might be called the assertivity of belief 

It will be noticed that thought merely enunciative is expressed 
in precisely the sa^ne forms of language as assertive thought^ 
just as an imaginary' story is told in the same language as a real 
history. This, of course, gives no ground to dispute the dis- 
tinction between enunciation and assertion. But it may some- 
times be necessary to inquire whether one be making an assertion 
or merely stating a proposition. 

It is also to be noticed that although we often speak 
things means of beheving in things^ — that is, in entities, — this is 
them as ex- ^"b' ^ short way of sa3ing that we believe in their 
istmg; i e., existence ; and tliis, again, as we have seen, is only 
thought of ai"^ incomplete wa}^ of expressing our belief in the 
them as ex- thought of their existence. For instance, in a dis- 
*^ ^"^' pute respecting the reputed wealth of some one, we 

might sa}^ that we believe in his wealth, or do not believe in it ; 
and we might express ourselves in the same wa}^ as to the 
asserted guilt of a prisoner, or the alleged meaning of a law, or 
the claimed excellence of some mode of trial, or anything else 
in which one might be said to believe. Such language signifies 
our belief in the existence of the wealth, or guilt, or meaning, or 
excellence specified ; and this belief is only belief in the propo- 
sition that such wealth or other entity exists. Thus it might be 
shown that no entity — that is, no conception of an entit}- — is 
ever an object of belief save only as it enters into a proposition 
or statement, and that propositions, statements, histories, and 
doctrines are objects of belief only because they continually set 
forth or enunciate the existence or the non-existence of things. 

Here, however, it ma}" be asked, Do we not as 

truth or ^ frequently say that we believe a thing to be true or 

thin'^°^* false as that we believe a thing to be or not to be; 

^^^' and if so, is not belief in the truth or falsity of a 



Chap. XIII.] BELIEF DEFINED, 99 

thing just as radical a form of intellectual action as belief in 
its existence or non-existence^ For simplicity, let us chiefly 
consider belief in the existence of something ; as belief in the 
non-existence of anything is, in itself, of precisel}^ the same 
nature. Let us also take belief in the truth of any statement, 
positive or negative, to illustrate belief in its falsity ; for the 
latter, which is often called disbelief, is simply belief in the 
contradictor}" opposite of a statement. 

In regard, then, to the foregoing questions, we remark that 
our belief that a thing is true differs materiall}- from our belief 
that a thing exists. The " thing" of the first belief is a propo- 
sitional thought (named perhaps by metonym}' from its ob- 
ject), and our belief is that this is true ; for onl}' propositions 
can be true or false. The " thing" of the other belief is not a 
proposition, but the object about which the proposition is made ; 
and the belief is that this thing exists. 

Such being the difference between these two descriptions of 
belief, we say that the belief that a thing is true is a form of 
mental action conditioned upon, and secondary to, the belief 
that a thing is; for before we can believe a proposition to 
be true, we must first believe that the thing or state of things 
set forth in the proposition is a reality'. In other words, we 
must believe that a thing exists before we can believe that the 
statement that it exists is true. Sometimes we sa^^ that a 
statement is true, or correct, in order to call attention to its ac- 
curacy and excellence ; more frequently we sa}" that a state- 
ment is true, meaning thereb}' onl}' that what it sets forth is fact. 
In this latter mode of assertion we simpl}' employ one fact of 
existence to indicate another; that is, the fact of the truth of 
the statement is used to indicate the existence of the thing about 
which the statement is made. 

This use of thought and language is evidently subsidiary to 
the more simple and direct statement of behef. It is also less 
radical ; for it implies that we primarily believe in the existence 
of a thing, and is itself a complex example of that very belief in 
existence. For to believe in the truth of a statement is simply 
to believe in the existence of its truth. The truth of proposi- 
tional thought is a relation of correspondence between it, on 
the one hand, and its objects, as existing, on the other ; to be- 
lieve in the truth of such thought, therefore, is to believe both in 
the EXISTENCE of the objects of the thought and in the existence 
of the correspondence between the thought and its objects. 
Thomas '^^^ correctness of the view now presented may be 

Aquinas deduced from a definition of truth framed by the 
quoted. ablest of the schoolmen, and which, according to Sir 



100 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XIV. 

William Hamilton, is accepted bj all philosophers. " Veritas intel- 
lectus," says Aquinas, "est adsequatio intellectus et rei, secundum 
quod intellectus dicit esse, quod est, vel non-esse, quod non est ; " 
which may be rendered, " The truth of thought is a correspond- 
ence of thought and fact, according to which thought says that 
what is, is, or that what is not, is not." Here Aquinas teaches 
that a thought or proposition is true, and can be so regarded, 
only as correcth^ setting forth that something exists or does not 
exist. From this it follows that we must believe in the existence 
or in the non-existence of a thing before we can believe in the 
truth (or trueness) of the proposition that it is, or is not. And 
so we conclude, again, that the proper and primar}^ object of 
belief is the proposition in which existence or non-existence is 
directly asserted, and not the truth of this proposition. The lat- 
ter — or rather the propositional thought presenting it — is a 
secondary and subsidiary object of belief. 



CHAPTER XIV. 
THEOEIES RESPECTING CONVICTION. 

1. The word " belief " often indicates a degree of intellectual con- 
fidence which falls short of knowled,^e, and which yet is stronger than 
mere guesswork or presumption. We sometimes say that we believe, 
but that we do not know, that so and so is the case. But now we 
include under belief every act of the mind in which we take, accept, 
or hold a thing as true, whether we do this feebly or firmly, and 
whether we have good grounds for doing so or not. In this sense be- 
lief admits of many degrees, and varies from the merest presumption 
of possibility to the most perfect assurance of fact ; and it includes 
knowledge, for knowledge is nothing else than absolute and well- 
founded certainty. 

A wide use Let US also make a wide use of the term "judgment." 
of the term This Ordinarily signifies the faculty of forming probable 
"judgment." |3g|-g£g q^, convictions. Mr. Locke says: "The faculty 
which God has given to man to supply the want of clear and cer- 
tain knowledge, where that cannot be had, is judgment, whereby the 
mind . . . takes any proposition to be true or false, without per- 
ceiving demonstrative evidence in the proofs." According to this 
meaning judgment, as the initial act of belief, must be distinguished 
from cognition, which is the initial act of knowledge. Let us, how- 
ever, give the same extension to the term "judgment " that we have 
already given to the term "belief;" aui in that case, of course, we 
must admit cognition to he a kind of judgment in the same way that 
knowledge is a kind of belief. This wide sense of the term " judg- 



Chap. XIV.] THEORIES RESPECTING CONVICTION. 101 

ment " is very commonly employed by the philosophers and logicians 
of the present day. 

By a natural metonymy the terms " belief " and " judgment " are 
applied to the operations and mental products of these powers, as well 
as to the powers themselves. We speak not only of belief and judg- 
ment, but also of beliefs and judgments, and of a judgment or a 
belief. This secondary use of language, which need cause us no con- 
fusion, should be granted the same extended application which we 
have asked for the more primary. 

Because, in determining a probability, the reasons for doing so be- 
come more or less prominent in thought, judging generally means not 
simply the formation of belief, but the formation of belief on evidence. 
It will matter little for our present purpose whether this be included 
in our conception or not, although it is true that one believes always 
on some ground. In like manner the word " conviction," which sig- 
nifies a belief necessitated by some evidence, may now be used as 
simply synonymous with '■'■belief.''^ 

2. Here also, as another preliminary, let us state a point 
iDen?raaybe ^^ "which philosophers are agreed. It is that every act of 
expressed by judgment or belief may be expressed by means of a propo- 
a proposi- sition. This need not be argued as regards the convic- 
tions of the rational faculty; every one knows that these 

are expressed by propositions. And as concerns the cognitions of 
immediate perception, it can be easily shown that these, when analyti- 
cally expressed, instantly assume the propositional form. This has 
been done by President Porter, who calls these presentational cogni- 
tions "primary, natural, and psychological judgments." For exam- 
ple, holding an orange and looking at it, one can say, " This object 
exists, and it is round and rough and yellow." Then, opening and 
tasting it, he can add, " This round, rough, yellow object is sweet 
and juicy." But these statements, expressive of one's immediate 
perceptions, are regular propositions, such as logicians describe. 

The reason why sense-cognitions and rational convictions can both 
assume the propositional form, is that they have a community of na- 
ture. Both are judgments, in the wide sense of that term. Indeed, 
presentative knowledge is transformed into logical knowledge simply 
by analytical elaboration. The beliefs of memory, which ai'e repro- 
duced cognitions, may also, of course, be set forth in propositions. 

3. The views of philosophers regarding the radical na- 
•' something ture of our beliefs or convictions are given to us mostly in 
of some- their doctrines concerning judgment, and concerning the 
thing. proposition as the form which every judgment takes when 
fully expressed. 

Aristotle ^ defines a proposition to be " a sentence which affirms or 
denies something of something." The most important word in this 
statement is the preposition " of," signifying the connection of one 
thing with another. The doctrine of Aristotle is that a judgment is 
the acceptance or the rejection, in our thought, of a union of things. 
Thus, in asserting, " The man is handsome," we accept a synthesis; 
but in asserting, " The man is not handsome," we reject one. 

1 Prior Analytics, chap. i. 



102 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XIV. 

He inculcates this same doctrine when he says that " affirmation is 
the assertion of something of, or concerning (Kara), something, and 
denial the assertion of something /rom, or away from (otto), some- 
thing." And this is yet more especially taught when we are told, 
first, that "to be " and " not to be " (eluai and ^j) dvai) signify the 
truth and the falsehood (t6 aXrjdes koI t6 yj/evdos) of the statements in 
which they are used, and then that these four predicables — existence, 
non-existence, truth, and falsehood — pertain to the conjunction and 
separation of things. " To be," he says, "is to be united and one; 
not to be is to be disunited and many." And he asserts that a propo- 
sition is true or false as setting forth*^ things according or not according 
to their composition and division. Hepl yap avvdeo-iv Ka\ diaipeaip eari 
TO yj/evdos re koL to dXrjdeS'^ 

These teachings are the origin of the common doctrine that the 
copula — that is, the verb "to be " as the assertive part of proposi- 
tions — does not have its own proper signification of existence, but 
indicates simply an agreement of ideas, or a connection of things; 
and that "not to be," in like manner, signifies a disconnection, or 
disagreement, between subject and predicate. 

Locke's 4. A doctrine differing in form rather than in substance 

"agreement from that of Aristotle was introduced into modern phi- 
menf"^or' losophy through the writings of Locke and Leibnitz, 
ideas. Leib- "Truth," says Locke, "signifies nothing but the joining 
nitz. or separating of signs, as the things signified by them do 

agree or disagree^ with one another. The joining or separating of 
signs here meant is what, by another name, we call propositions. So 
that truth properly belongs only to propositions ; whereof there are two 
sorts, mental and verbal, as there are two sorts of signs commonly 
made use of, namely, ideas and words." He tells us, also, that it is 
in the exercise of the faculties of knowledge and judgment that "the 
mind takes its ideas to agree or disagree, or, which is the same thing, 
any proposition to be true or false." 2 Thus Mr. Locke makes judg- 
ment a joining or separating of ideas according to their agreement 
or disagreement, while yet he teaches that this agreement or disagree- 
ment does not primarily belong to our ideas, but to "the things sig- 
nified by them." He differs from Aristotle chiefly because that, 
instead of the wide relations of connection and separation which are 
indicated by Kara and otto, he employs the more specific conceptions 
of agreement and disagreement. Both philosophers make judgment 
a composition or a division of ideas, in their use, as representative of 
things. 

Locke's statement has been adopted by most modern thinkers. 
First among these was Leibnitz, his great contemporary, who also 
gave it an important modification. Having repeated a teaching of 
Locke, that the agreement or disagreement of our ideas is of four 
different sorts, — namely, those of identity or diversity, those of rela- 
tion, those of co-existence or connection, and those of real existence, 
— he observes that relation, the second of these categories (or generic 

1 De Interpretatione, chaps, iii., v., vi., and x. ; and Metaphysics, book iv. 
chap, vii., and book viii. chap. x. 

2 Essay, book ii. chap, xxxii. § 19, and book iv. chaps, i. and xiv. 



Chap. XIV.] THEORIES RESPECTING CONVICTION. 103 

classes), if taken in a wide sense, may include them all He concludes, 
therefore, that all our knowledge is a perception of relations. 

He teaches, also, that some relations are those of comparison, — for 
example, those of identity, diversity, likeness, and unlikeness, — while 
others are those of connection or co-existence ; and then he declares 
that the most important of these relations of connection is that of real ex- 
istence. And he says that this existence, when predicated of an 
object, may be regarded as the conjunction of the object with one's 
self. "On pent aussi concevoir I'existence de I'objet d'une idee 
comme le concours de cet objet avec moi."^ The main doctrine of 
Leibnitz reappears in the writings of Sir William Hamilton, Presi- 
dent Porter, and others, ivho teach that judgment is the faculty of per- 
ceiving relations, and of uniting objects in thought by means of this 
perception. 2 

KeiJ. J s. ^- "^^^ wonderful vitality of the Aristotelic doctrine of 
Mill.' "A * conviction may be seen in the preference given, by various 
predicate of leading authors since the time of Locke, to the ancient 
a su jec . fQYYn of statement. Thomas Reid, the father of modern 
intuitionalism, having stated that " the definition commonly given of 
judgment by the more ancient writers in logic was, that it is an act 
of the mind whereby one thing is affirmed or denied of another," 
declares, '''■ I believe this is as good a definition of it as can be given.^* 
And John Stuart Mill, the association alist apostle, says: " A propo- 
sition is a portion of discourse in which a predicate is affirmed or 
denied of a subject." This is the teaching also of Herbert Spencer. 

One remark of Mill's is noticeable as betraying an unconscious dis- 
satisfaction with the leading doctrine advocated by himself and by 
his school, — the doctrine that belief may be accounted for by a strong or 
inseparable association of ideas. He says: " To determine what it is 
that happens in the case of assent or dissent, besides putting two ideas 
together, is one of the most intricate of metaphysical problems." 

Like Leibnitz and Locke, Mill gives a classification of things predi- 
cable. He says: " Existence, co-existence, sequence, causation, and 
resemblance, one or other of these is asserted or denied in every propo- 
sition without exception. He also offers a definition of existence 
similar to that of Leibnitz. " The existence of a phenomenon is but 
another word for its being perceived, or for the inferred possibility of per- 
ceiving it. My belief that the Emperor of China exists is simply my 
belief that if I were transported to the imperial palace, or some other 
locality in Pekin, I should see him. My belief that Julius Caesar ex- 
isted is my belief that I should have seen him if I had been present in 
the field of Pharsalia, or in the senate-house at Rome." In other 
words, according to Mr. Mill, when we assert existence of some object, 
we assert that it is related to us in that it is, or might be, perceived. ^ 
Kant: "die ^- ^^^ ^^^ ^^'^ ^^^'"^ to the opinions of Immanuel Kant, 
Sinuhchkeit who laid the foundations for German idealism at Konigs- 
nunft^" ^^'^ berg, while Reid was expounding intuitionalism in Glas- 
gow. Kant's general term for conviction of every kind 

1 Nouveaux Essais, liv. iv. chap. i. 

^ Hamilton's Met,, lect. xx. ; Porter's Human Intellect, part iii. chap. v. 

3 See Reid s Essays, Mill's Logic, and Spencer's Psychology. 



104 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XIV. 

and degree is " Erkenntniss," or cognition. This results from the ap- 
plication of the conceptions of the understanding (" Verstand ") to the 
intuitions or representations (" Anshauungen") of the sensuous faculty. 
These are not intuitions or represeniaiions in any English sense of the 
words, for we are not to suppose that anything is really perceived or 
represented. They are rather mere felt appearances. Judgment 
(" Urtheilskraft ") is the faculty M'hich unites a plurality of intuitions 
into a unity under some concept (" Begriff ") of the understanding, and 
so produces a cognition. Cognition, therefore, is the product of the 
synthetic action of thought and sensibility. 

For example, should the sensuous faculty (" die Sinnlichkeit ") give 
certain feelings indicative of size, solidity, and downward pressure, 
then the judgment, using the categories of substance and of reality, would 
assert, " This is a heavy body." But if such sense-intimations were 
not given, but only imagined, then the judgment, retaining the con- 
ception of substance, but employing the category of possibility instead of 
that of existence, would say, " There might be such a thing as a heavy 
body." 

This may explain Kant's meaning when he condemns the doctrine 
that " a judgment is a representation of a relation between two ideas," 
and teaches that " a judgment is nothing else than the mode of bring- 
ing given cognitions to the objective unity of the consciousness," — 
that is, to that oneness of conception which conscious intelligence re- 
quires. Moreover, according to Kant, the categories, or concept-forms, 
of modality, — namely, possibility, reality, and necessity, — though 
they help to give unity to our cognitions, do not enlarge the conception 
of the object, " hut only express its relation to the faculty of cognition " 
(" sondern nur das Verhaltniss zura Erkenntnissvermogen aus- 
driicken "). In other words, like Leibnitz and Mill, he makes the 
existence of an object to consist in its being related to our faculties. ^ 

7. We have now briefly stated the opinions of leading 
eiTor oTpiiS philosophers respecting the action of the mind in believing, 
losopliers re- First, Aristotle makes it an affirming or denying something 
spectingcon- of something ; then Locke teaches that it is the joining or 
separating of ideas according to their agreement or disagree- 
ment. But these both hold that we judge of entities really separate 
and different from ourselves. Mr. Mill also says that the subject and 
predicate, which are employed in affirmation or denial, stand for 
things; his "things," however, prove to be nothing more than mere 
feelings, or possibilities of feeling, which tend to unite or to separate by 
reason of some habit or association. Finally, Kant, more directly, ex- 
plains belief as a purely subjective synthesis, w^hich gives us no reason 
to believe in things separate from, or beyond, the exercise of our own 
faculties. He calls certain " cognitions " objectice only because they 
follow a fixed, order, and not the choice of our wills. 

The doctrine common to all these philosophers, and to many others 
represented by them, is that conviction is essentially a process of the 
composition or division of mental states; for even Kant, who speaks 
mostly of synthesis, would say that the judgment of disbelief involves 
the separation from one's thought of the category of reality. 

^ Compare Lotze, Outlines of Metaphysic, § 10. 



Chap. XV] JUDGMENT. 105 

We reject these various teachings as erroneous and misleading. 
Only confusion can result if judgment be defined as the affirming or 
denying one thing of another ; or as the recognition of the agreement or 
disagreement of ideas; or as the perception of a relatedness or a non- 
relatedness between objects or between conceptions ; or as the effectuation 
of some synthesis or some separation of mental or psychical states. 

Our reasons for this opinion might be given in the shape of objec- 
tions to the foregoing theories. But, in the present instance, we think 
that the elucidation of the truth will be more profitable than the exam- 
ination of error, and will prove the best possible refutation of the error. 
We shall content ourselves, therefore, with maintaining the position that 
judgment is the mental assertion of the existence or of the non-existence of 
things. This view is involved in the doctrine, already taught, that 
belief always attaches itself to one or other of the two thoughts of ex- 
istence or non-existence. 

The theory of judgment and belief, which w^e advocate, is so simple 
and evident that one wonders whether there can be any discussion 
over it; yet it has not hitherto been taught by philosophers, and it 
should not be accepted without consideration. 



CHAPTER XV. 

JUDGMENT. 

1. The account commonly given of propositions 
and^asfer^^ ovcrlooks the difference between a proposition merely 
*uEhe?^"' thought, and a proposition believed. Logicians gen- 
^"^^^ ^ ■ erally — for example, President Porter and President 
McCosh — teach that "a proposition is s^ judgment expressedin 
words'^ This is not a satisfactory statement. It is a definition 
of propositions from the chief use we make of them, and not 
from their own nature. A proposition may be completely formed 
and enunciated without any judgment. We must distinguish be- 
tween the enunciative and the assertive proposition. The former 
expresses thought, or conception, only ; the latter, thought and 
belief also. A proposition, simply as such, is merely enuncia- 
tive. At the beginning of every criminal trial the jury has two 
propositions in mind, — namely, "The man is guilty," and "The 
man is not guiltj'," — but neither of these is yet a matter of 
judgment or belief. 

Dr. Reid calls our attention to this point. " A proposition,'* 
he says, " may be simply conceived, without judging of it; but 
when there is not only a conception of the proposition, but a 
mental affirmation or negation, an assent or dissent of the un- 
derstanding, that is Judgment.'' Let us remember that we may 



106 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XV. 

think and state propositions without entertaining an}^ belief 
respecting the matters which they may bring under our con- 
sideration. 

2. Such being the case, the question arises, How 
fitxolln^'^' does the doctrine that judgment is the assertion of 
existential existence or of non-existence agree with the admitted 

^^^ ' fact that every judgment may be expressed by means 
of a proposition? We reply that a very satisfactory proof of 
the new doctrine may be found in a right understanding of the 
essential force of propositions ; because, on examination, we 
discover every 'proposition to be nothing else than the explicit 
statement of an existential thought. For we may divide propo- 
sitions into two comprehensive classes, and maj^ say that the 
function of one of these classes is to set forth the existence or 
the non-existence of the subject- object of the proposition, and 
that the function of the other class is to set forth the existence 
or the non-existence of the predicate-object of the proposition. 
In illustration of the first class we maj^ say, " God exists," or 
"God does not exist;" because in these statements the sub- 
ject is set forth as existing and as non-existent. The second 
class may be exemplified by the statements, "God is wise," 
' ' God is not selfish ; " for in these we assert the existence of 
wisdom, and the non-existence of selfishness, in God. 
The predica- It is marvellous that the distinction now presented 
tion proper. ^'^ r^^Q^ ^q be found in any logical treatise^ and cannot 
he expressed in the terminology of any text-booh. Both classes 
of propositions — those which assert the existence or the non- 
existence of the subject, and those which assert the existence or 
the non-existence of the predicate — are placed without discrimi- 
nation under the head of predications. Let us note, however, 
that propositions of the second class have a better right than 
those in the first class to be st3'led predications ; for it is only 
in them that we truly predicate one thing of another. The 
statements, "God is wise," "God is not selfish," may be de- 
scribed as an aflfirming and a denying one entity of another ; for 
wisdom and selfishness are both things, or entities. But when 
we say, " God is," or " God is not," we do not predicate one 
thing of another ; for existence and non-existence are not things : 
we only assert existence or non-existence of God. We might 
therefore distinguish propositions of the first class as simple 
existential statements.^ and say that those of the second class 
are predications proper. 

Now, that ever}'^ predication proper sets forth the existence or 
the non-existence of its predicate-object maj^ be shown, because 
such a proposition can always be converted, by a little ingenuity, 



Chap. XV.] JUDGMENT. 107 

into a direct existential statement. For example, instead of the 
ordinar}^ mode of expression, we can sa}^ that "Wisdom, as 
something in God, exists," and that " Selfisimess, as a divine 
attribute, does not exist;" so, also, instead of "John walks," 
or "John is not walking," we can sa^^ "Walking as an action 
of John exists," or "does not exist." 

But here some one ma.y argue : If such be the essen- 
anduse^of tial significance of predications, why do not men say 
predications j^st what they mean f Why do they not always employ 
simple existential statements? We repl}' that the 
ordinary forms of speech do express just what men mean, and 
this, too, in the best possible manner. For sometimes we de- 
sire to sa}' that something considered per se, or without reference 
to its connections with other things, exists or does not exist ; 
and then we use the direct mode of statement. But, more fre- 
quently, we wish to assert the existence or the non-existence of 
something as in relatio?i to something else which is already 
Jcnovm or assumed to exist ; in this case we find it convenient 
to mention first, and as the subject of the sentence, that which 
is already known to be, and then, in the predicate part of the 
proposition, to present that the existence of which is asserted 
or denied. For we must mark that no predication prop)er ever 
asserts or denies the existence of its subject. The statement, 
"John is not walking," does not assert the non-existence of 
John; nor does the statement, "John is walking," assert his 
existence. In each case John is assumed as a fact already 
known, and the assertion concerns only the walking as related 
to John. 

The origin of Moreover, there is no inexplicable mystery in the 
the copula- circumstancc that the copulative verb, though in im- 
tive verb. mediate grammatical relation to the subject, sets forth 
the existence or the non-existence of the predicate. Primeval 
language appears to have had no term to express the abstract 
idea of existence. To indicate this thought, verbs signifying to 
begin, to grow, to breathe, to live, to stand, to remain, were 
emploj^ed, because such verbs specially directed attention to the 
existence of that which began, or grew, or breathed, or lived, or 
remained. Hence " existere," in Latin, meaning " to emerge," 
and yeveo-^ai, in Greek, meaning "to be born," came to signify 
existence. 

To this cause, also, we trace the various irregular parts of the 
verb " to be," both in our own and in other languages. The 
English "is" and "am," the Latin "sum" and "esse," and 
the Greek ei/xt and etyat, are identical with the Sanskrit " asmi," 
signifying originally " to breathe," and "the meanings of which 



108 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XV. 

were probably developed in the following order : breathe, live, 
be." 1 The German " bin" and " bist," the English "be" and 
" been," and the Latin " fui" and " futurus," are identical with 
tj>vi(T6aL, signifying "to grow or spring up." "War" and 
"gewesen" in German, and "was" and "were" in English, 
are derived from a Sanskrit root ("was") meaning "to dwell 
or sta}^" When, therefore, our distant forefathers would assert 
the existence of some one, they said, " The man was born," or 
" The man dwells," or " The man shall breathe ; " birth, dwell- 
ing, and breath being mentioned simply to indicate being. 
After a period of such use these verbs lost their original and 
proper force, and came to signify^ existence only. 

But now it will be seen that before these verbs lost their own 
peculiar meanings., they were fitted to indicate the existence of 
the predicate placed after them just as well as that of the subject 
placed before them. For, in saying, "The tree stands strong ; the 
tree grows high ; the tree remains green," the adjectives "strong," 
"high," "green," are connected with the verbs after the man- 
ner of grammatical limitation, and the whole stress of the 
predication plainly falls on them. So, even to our ears, the 
expressions, "He lives righteous; he breathes happj-," would 
assert the existence of the righteousness and of the happiness 
of some one; while "He breathes not happy; he lives not 
righteous," would indicate the non-existence of these things. 
Clearl}' the verb " to be," even in its secondary use as the copula 
in predications, is emploj'ed to signify existence and non-exist- 
ence ; and so it is put be3'ond question that the essential aim of 
every proposition is to express existential thought. 
jnd<^ment ^' J^clgmcnt and belief, therefore, are not a con- 
and belief junction or a separation of our conceptions of things ; 
defined. ^j.^^^. ^^^ ^^ exercise of mental confidence in connection 
with the thoughts of existence and of non-existence. 

Accordingly, we can conceive of things, both sj^ntheticalty and 
analytically, without an}^ exercise of belief respecting the things 
conceived of; we can entertain convictions concerning things 
viewed separatel}' as well as when they may be considered with 
reference to their connections ; and even when we do use the 
composition or the separation of thought in the expression of 
our belief, it cannot be said that the mental compounding of 
things is specially connected with affirmation, or that the mental 
partition of things is specially connected with denial. For a 
union of things may be non-existent and may be denied, and a 
separation of things may be existent and may be affirmed. We 

1 Curtius, Greek Etymology, § 378. 



Chap. XV.] JUDGMENT. 109 

can even think of things as existing or as non-existent without 
believing in their existence or in their non-existence. 

One wonders at the confusion affecting the doctrines of phi- 
losophers respecting judgment and conviction. We trace it to 
their failure to note the difference between thought and the 
belief which may or ma}^ not accompanj' thought, and to their 
attempt, consequent upon this want of discrimination, to ex- 
plain belief and disbelief as a compounding and a dividing of 
conceptions. 

4. But here some one may say : Granting that the fitness of 
propositions to express conviction arises from their constitution 
as forms of existential thought, and that some propositions set 
forth the existence or non-existence of the subject, while others 
set forth the existence or non-existence of the predicate, yet in 
this latter class of statements, which have heeii distinguished as 
predications projjer, is it not true that the thing immediately 
judged and asserted to he or not to he, is always and essentially 
a relation, — that is, the relatioyi hetioeen the suhject-ohject and 
the predicate-ohject of the proposition f Evidently the doc- 
trine thus suggested, while conceding the main points for which 
we have contended, would somewhat justify the teachings of 
those who say that all judgment and cognition consist in the per- 
ception of relations ; for it would teach that the majority of our 
judgments may be thus described. 

We cannot, however, accept this doctrine. We cannot allow 
that predications proper set forth only the existence or the non- 
existence of relations. Such sometimes is their force ; more 
frequently they express belief in regard to things which are 
indeed related, yet which are not relations. When we say, 
"John walks, or is walking," we set forth, not the relation of 
the action to the agent, but the existence of the action. The 
relation is impUcated in the fact of the action, but is not the 
point of the assertion. Aristotle teaches the true doctrine when 
he says that predication deals not with relations alone, but with 
" whatever may he inherent or non-inherent in any suhject : " 
that is, predication sets forth whatever may or may not be 
naturally conjoined in heing with any given entity ; for spaces, 
times, quantities, qualities, powers, actions, changes, and com- 
binations of these things are all, in this wa}", set forth as 
existent or as non-existent. 

Let us illustrate this point by quoting and applying 

Sil^'of'the"^^ the teaching of Aristotle. " The categories,'' he says, 

c-^t^goriesof i* are ten in numher, — what a thing is, quantity, 

quality, relation, ichere, ichen, position, possession,, 

action, passion ; " and he adds that every proposition signifies 



110 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XV. 

either what a thing is, or some other categorj-.i We accept this 
statement so far as regards predications proper. These cate- 
gories seem to be an exhaustive classification of those modes of 
predicative conception which men naturall3' use. 

The first sets forth what a thing is, and has also been named 
ova-La, or substance. It is that emplo^^ed when we predicate one 
noun of another, either affirmatively or negatively ; for example, 
" John is, or is not, a man." It is the generic form of that 
large class of propositions which Locke and Leibnitz place under 
the head of identity and diversity / for the thing immediatelj' 
asserted to be, or not to be, is identit}', — that is, the identity of 
"John" with " a man." This, though not expressed by any 
word, is indicated b}^ the juxtaposition of the terms "John" and 
"man," with only the verb " to be" between them ; just as we 
indicate identit}' in saving, "John, a man whom I saw yes- 
terda}'," or " John is the man whom I saw yesterda3\" 

But it is essential to remark that this category does not use 
the relation of identity for its own sake ; it employ's it as the 
instrument of asserting or denjing some nature of the subject. 
For John, being a man, must have all the attributes of a man ; 
while if he is not a man, — if, for example, he is a horse, — he 
cannot be said to have them. Thus this category' uses one fact 
in order to state another. 

Again, when we sa}', "John is six feet high," we assert that 
a certain quantity of height, or length, exists in John. When 
we say, "John is kind and strong," we state that the qualities 
of kindness and strengtli exist in John. The predication, " John 
is the son of Wilham," is, in form, one of identit}-, — a form 
under wliich every categor}' may be expressed ; but the essential 
fact set forth is a relatedness of John to William. " John is in 
a house," has a double force ; it tells, first that there is a house, 
and then, that John is in it. Hence the categorj" of place, some- 
times at least, asserts more than mere local relation. "John 
will come at noon," in answer to the question " When will 
John come?" also has a doubleness : it calls attention, first, 
to a certain length of time about to exist and elapse between 
the present time and noon ; and then to the relation of simul- 
taneity which shall exist between John's coming and midday. 

The categories of position and possession might perhaps be 
better named those of posture and condition. They also have 
a complexity. We assert a posture in saying, "John is sitting," 
or "John is resolved;" this language indicating a mutual ad- 
justment of the parts of John's body or of the thoughts of his 

1 Topics, book i. chap. ix. 



Chap. X VL] KNO WLED GE. Ill 

mind, and, in addition, the external relation of this adjustment ; 
for one sits on some seat, and is resolved on some conduct. 
But a condition would be asserted in saying, " John is well," or 
'' John is wealthy ; " for this language indicates both the existence 
of health and wealth, and the state in which John finds himself 
as the possessor of one or other of these blessings. The cate- 
gory of posture sets forth the existence of an external state as 
arising from internal adjustments ; that of condition the exist- 
ence of an internal state, together with that of its cause, be the 
cause what it may. 

Finahy, "John strikes" sets forth the existence of an action 
in its relation to the doer^ while "John is struck" presents the 
same in its relation to the sufferer. Thus affirmative predica- 
tions assert the existence, and of course negative predications 
the non-existence, of various forms or modes of entity. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

KNOWLEDGE. 

Knowledge 1- KNOWLEDGE is absolute and well-founded belief, 
defined. When wc are certain of an3'thing, and that, too, on 
good grounds, we know it. But the term "knowledge" dif- 
fers from the term "belief," in that knowledge alwa^'s covers 
the conception, or thought-element, on which conviction depends, 
as well as the conviction itself; while belief may stand for the 
mere mental confidence. Knowledge includes both a correct 
conception of something as existing (or as non-existent), and 
an absolute and well-grounded assurance accompanying that 
conception. 

Its objects Language, too, owing to its practical character, 
are facts. makes a difi*erence between the objects of knowledge 
and those of belief. The things which we believe, are statements 
or propositions ; the things which we know, are facts or realities. 
The reason for this is that whenever we exercise a weaker befief 
than knowledge, our attention is necessarily directed to our 
mental state, with some inquiry as to its claim upon our confi- 
dence ; but in knowledge, this question having been settled, the 
interest of the mind fastens at once upon the facts. There- 
fore it is correct to say, "I know the fact that there is a sun 
in the heavens, and I believe the proposition that the sun is a 
solid body." 



112 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XVI. 

Knowledge -^ distinction has come down to ns from Aristotle 
of the^ " between knowing that a thing is and knowing what it 
of t'he ^° is ; or, as he expressed it, between the knowledge of 
"what." the '' that " and the knowledge of the " what." Both 
modes of knowing ma}^ be expressed by the veiy same forms of 
thought and of language, — that is, b}' the assertive proposition. 
For if any one should sa}^, " I know that the man is a knave," 
and should emphasize the word " is," he would answer the 
quer}^ "Is the man a knave?" and would express his knowledge 
of the " that." But if he should emphasize the word " knave," 
he would repl}^ to the question, " What is the man? " and would 
express his knowledge of the " what." Evidently both kinds of 
knowing assert the existence of something of a given nature; but 
the one emphasizes the existence, and the other the nature, of 
that which is said to exist. If no special emphasis should rest 
on either of these things, then the tw^o kinds of knowing would 
combine in one. 

The distinction which we have now noticed brings 
amuiefiiif- "P another, which, however, is onlj^ another form of 
*^^^g^^ ^"^^^- the same distinction. It is that between the existen- 
tial, or assertive, and the definitional, or determina- 
tive, knowledge of things. All knowledge is existential and 
assertive, but one form of knowing is pre-eminently so. For 
instance, should one say that he knows the guilt or innocence, 
the foolishness or the trustworthiness, of a man, this would 
mean that he knows these things to exist ; it would be a knowl- 
edge of the "that." 

But let us suppose one to say, " I know the shape, of the 
earth, the form of its planetary" orbit, its distance from the sun, 
and the law of its perpetual motion in space." Does he now 
mean to assert that he knows of the existence of the shape of the 
earth and of the other objects? Not at all. He means to say 
that he is acquainted with their nature, so as to be able to satisfy 
our inquiries concerning them. For he can add, " I know the 
shape of the earth as that of an oblate spheroid, the form of its 
orbit as elliptical, its distance from the sun as ninety-one mil- 
lions of miles, and the law of its motion as a resultant of the 
gravitation and the momentum of matter ; " and this is equiva- 
lent to saying, " I know that the shape of the earth is an oblate 
spheroid," and so foi^th. In this style of knowledge the element 
of thought is mucli more prominent than the element of convic- 
tion ; and as it qualifies a person to explain the nature of things, 
it may be called definitional knowledge. 

2. So far we have spoken as if all knowing had actual fact for 
its object. But no doctrine of belief would be complete which 



Chap. XVI.] KNOWLEDGE. 113 

should not recognize those modes of credence in which we may 
be said to believe without believing in the real existence of 
things, and to know without there being any real objects of 
knowledge. 

Idealistic ^01' example, we sometimes call our ideas knowl- 

knowiedge. edge "when they do not represent any realities that 
ever existed, but only correspond with similar ideas previously 
entertained b}' some one. The student of Homer is said to 
know the stalwart strength of Ajax, the conquering craft of 
Ulysses, the wisdom of Nestor, the prowess of Achilles. He 
knows too how the capture of Helen led to the Trojan AVar, and 
how the Greeks entered and obtained possession of the city 
through the stratagem of the wooden horse. Or if one be not 
perfectly certain of some Homeric description, he ma}^ say that 
he believes that certain things were so ; as, for example, that the 
shield of Achilles had on it the twelve signs of the zodiac in 
sculptured work. Strictly speaking, this knowledge or belief in 
things imaged or represented is not knowledge or belief at all. 
The onl}^ element of fact in the case is the correspondence of our 
thought vnth previously existing thought., — that is, with the con- 
ceptions of Homer; 3'et we do not speak of knowing this corre- 
spondence, biit of knovnng the fictitious events and objects. Such 
language is metaphorical. We call our conceptions knowledge, 
because they correspond to those of Homer in a manner some- 
what similar to that in which true knowledge, by reason of its 
very nature, corresponds with our first perception of fact. 
Hypotheti- Again, the formation of l^ypothetical judgments and 
caiknowi- assertions presents a very important case, in which 
® ^^' we speak of knowing and believing facts and objects 

without this language being true, at least in its strict and pri- 
marj' sense. We often assert that if a certain antecedent exist, 
a certain consequent must exist also, and sa3' that we know or 
believe this, even in cases where no antecedent exists, and in 
which, therefore, no consequent can be inferred to exist. Thus 
John Smith might say, "If I had $100,000,000, I would be 
richer than Astor," and we could reply, "That is a fact, Mr. 
Smith ; that is true ; we all Jcnoic that." At the same time we 
perceive that there is no real antecedent, and therefore also no 
necessit}^ of consequence (or co-existence), and no consequent 
at all. In truth, it belongs to the nature of every hypothetical 
assertion to leave out belief as to actual existence. Reality may 
characterize some part of the composition of the antecedent or 
of the consequent, but neither of these, as a whole, is asserted 
to exist. We only think and say that if the one exist, then the 
other onust exist also. In the case adduced, Smith and Astor 

8 



114 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XVI. 

might both be living men, and other reahties might be thought 
of; but neither the possession of the $100,000,000, nor the su- 
periority to Astor in wealth, nor the necessar}^ consequence of 
the latter on the former, is stated as a fact. Therefore h^^po- 
thetical knowledge and belief, as such, deal not with real but 
only with conceived or supposed objects and their supposed ex- 
istence. Yet the only true existence, the only true fact, is the 
actual. 

At the same time it is clear that a large and important por- 
tion of our knowledge and beUef is hjpothetical. The chief 
part of everj' s^'stem of science and philosophy, and the great 
bod}' of the practical wisdom of mankind, together with all 
thoughts or statements which are ever used as principles in 
reasoning, are not properly assertions of fact, but of that ichich 
must he or become fad., provided certain specified conditions 
shoidd exist. Moreover, man}^ statements are of this character 
which at first sight appear to assert general facts, but which, at 
least as to their use in reasoning, are not assertions of fact at 
all. Thus, in laying down the principle, " Books are pleasant 
companions," the existence of books and their pleasant company 
is referred to ; but we assert onl}' that if books exist, or wher- 
ever thej' may exist, they afford a pleasant fellowship. So, also, 
*' Man is mortal" signifies, "Man, whenever or wherever he 
ma}' exist, is mortal ; " and this would be true even though there 
were not a single human being to be found. 

The extensive use and the prominent importance of hj'po- 
thetical belief, and the fact that logic, the science of rational 
conviction, is chiefl}^ occupied with the laws which regulate 
the formation of hypothetical belief, account in part for the 
failure of philosophers to see that the expression of confidence 
in existence is the essential office and ultimate end of every 
form of intellectual assent. 

The relation That hypothetical conviction is a mode of confidence 
ca/?7actuai- ^^*^^^3' secondary, subordinate, and ministerial to be- 
istic convic- lief in actual fact, — that is, to belief which asserts 
cus^seli.^Hy- actual fact, — and that its very essence is dependent 
potheticai upon its having this character, without which it would 
ferentiai be- not be belief at all, becomes evident when we anah'ze 
lief. hypothetical belief, and compare it with that form of 

belief in actual fact to which it is most closely allied. 

That radical form of conviction which we have just mentioned 
as belief in actual fact, and which therefore might be termed 
actualistic belief, may be distinguished into two kinds, or classes, 
— the presentational and the inferential. The former of these 
is experienced in the presentations, or immediate perceptions, of 



Chap. XVL] KNOWLEDGE. 115 

sense and consciousness ; while the latter is the inference of one 
fact from some other fact with which it is necessarily connected. 
Now h^ypothetical conviction is related immediately and closely 
to that form of actualistic belief which is inferential, and not to 
that which is presentational. This is so much the case that 
the same name, '' inference," which describes the more primary 
and complete mode of confidence is also applied to the secondary 
and subordinate mode ; and these two kinds of belief have so 
much a common nature that they may be distinguished and com- 
pared as actualistic inference and hypothetical inference. 

By far the greater part of human knowledge and belief is in- 
cluded under one or other of these modes of inferential convic- 
tion. Actualistic inference infers one literal fact from another^ 
or from a combination of others. We see smoke issuing from 
a chimney, and thence infer that there is fire within the house ; 
or observing a librar}^ in a dwelling, we infer that the owner is 
fond of books. We find a field rectangular, and with one side 
ten rods in length and another twentj' in length, and thence 
infer that there are two hundred square rods of surface in the 
field. Or we learn that one man, James, is 3'ounger than John, 
who again is 3'ounger than William, and thence conclude that 
James also is younger than William. Without an}^ searching 
analvsis it is plain that such reasonings infer fact from fact, and 
that the belief or knowledge resulting from them is a conviction 
as to actual existence. In the foregoing examples the actual 
existence of fire, of a fondness for books, of a certain quantity 
of surface as belonging to a certain field, and of the relation of 
juniority on the part of James to William, are inferentially as- 
serted. Hypothetical belief on the other hand., asserts only 
that if one thing is so, then another thing is so. We saj^ only 
that if there is smoke, there is fire ; or if there were a field an- 
swering a given description, it would contain a specified quantity 
of surface. Such being the case, the question arises. How far, 
or in what respects, does hypothetical inference agree in nature 
with actualistic inference, and how far does it differ? 

First, then, it exhibits no difference, so far as the 
as'to^oT"^^ construction of thought employed in it is concerned. 
thoSt""^ The sequence of conceptions in every inference is a 
peculiar one. It is the work of a special development 
of that power by reason of which one idea is associated with, 
and suggested by, another. In other words, it is the product 
of that faculty of suggestive conception which regards not the 
accidental but the necessar}^ relations of things, and which, 
when acting in connection with judgment and the reasoning 
power, may be considered as included in those powers as their 



116 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XVI. 

thought-factor. For, on thinking of certain things, the mind 
can, and continually does, think of other things related to them, 
and of these latter as in some way so related to the former that 
their existence is necessarily connected with the existence of the 
former ; and while exercising this power of thought, the mind 
judges concerning the existence of the things conceived of as 
related in the way described. 

The thing known, or assumed, to exist is called the ante- 
cedent ; the thing inferred to exist is the consequent ; and the 
necessary co-existence of the latter with the former is called 
the consequence. So far as these terms indicate order, it is the 
order of our thought in making an inference, and not an order 
belonging to the objects of thought as successive in time or as 
related in any other wa}^ The consequent may precede or be 
contemporaneous with the antecedent ; and the latter is as fre- 
quently an effect as it is a cause. The only essential point is 
that the existence of the consequent is in some wa}^ necessarily 
connected with that of the antecedent. The special relations 
which thus connect one thing with another are of great variety ; 
but they all possess the characteristic of involving the necessary 
co-existence of the consequent with the antecedent. Examples 
may easily be found to ilhistrate these statements. We should 
add that sometimes there are negative antecedents, and some- 
times negative consequents ; because a case of existence is often 
necessarily connected with a case of non-existence, and the re- 
verse, and because a case of non-existence is often consequent 
upon another case of non-existence. 

Again, let us remark, hypothetical inference does 
as to degrees not essentially or necessarily differ from actualistic, 
of belief. ^^ ^^ ^j^g degree of belief which it produces. Actual- 
istic inference, though alwa3's asserting fact, varies in its confi- 
dence from that of perfect knowledge to that of mere surmise or 
conjecture. Seeing fresh pools of water, we know that it has 
rained ; seeing the clouds gathering, we conjecture that it may 
rain. It is sometimes taught that hypothetical inference, which 
never asserts fact, but oxAy what would be fact if a certain other 
thing were fact, does not admit diverse degrees of confidence. 
This is erroneous. It is true we mostly assume absolute cer- 
tainty in the grounds of a hypothetical inference, and therefore 
also assert the conclusion with absolute confidence ; j^et, should 
we suppose something to be probably, not certainly, a fact, and 
another something probably, not certainl3', to be necessarily con- 
nected with this, such supposition would yield an inference purely 
hj'pothetical, and also onlj' probable. Let us suppose that a 
certain piece of stone is probably amber, and then that amber is 



Chap. XVI.] KNOWLEDGE. 117 

probably a vegetable product : this gives the hypothetical and 
probable inference that the stone in question is of vegetable 
origin. The absoluteness of conviction ascribed to hj^pothetical 
argument belongs to it only accidentally, and is assumed in order 
that discussions respecting the dependence of conclusions on 
premises may not be complicated with questions touching de- 
grees of probabilitj'. But we can easily fashion for ourselves 
probable hj'pothetical inferences. 

There is, therefore, no difference between actualistic and 
h3^pothetical inferences, as to the construction of thought em- 
ployed., or as to the degree of confidence produced hy them. 
Degrees of probability are more frequently considered in actual- 
istic reasoning ; and the consequence, or necessit}^ of co-exist- 
ence, is commonly more emphasized in hj-pothetical inference. 
In actualistic conclusions the interest of the mind tends to leave 
the consequence and gather upon the consequent. But these 
differences are not essential or necessary. 
The true ^^ ^^' howcver, a most important difference that, in 

point of dif- actualistic inference, the antecedent is known or be- 
lieved actuall}^ to exist, and that the consequence and 
consequent are therefore asserted actuall}^ to exist ; while no 
such belief or assertion is found in hypothetical inference. This 
latter mode of conviction occurs without any belief in the actual 
existence of its objects, and simply in connection with a special 
exercise of thought ; for the antecedent of a hj'pothetical infer- 
ence is only supposed to exist, or thought of as existing, and 
the consequence and consequent are conceived of as existing 
without any belief in their actual existence. 
A peculiar -^^ the Same time it is clear that a certain belief or 
and undefin- confidence is cxcrcised, in hj^pothetical inference, in 
confidence.^ conncctiou with the conception of the consequence 
^ll^t^i?ci^ and consequent as existing. This belief is expressed 

SO1116 SGUSG ^ -^ *-^ 77» T»* 

concerns by saj'ing that the consequent wouta exist ; and it is 
existence, evident that hypothetical inference is as much distin- 
guished by the presence of this mode of belief as it is by the 
absence of the other. 

Here is the essential or internal difference between actualistic 
and hypothetical inferences, considered as modes of intellectual 
conviction. It lies in the difference of the modes of confidence 
with which they accept the same thought, — that is, the thought 
of the consequent and of its necessary co-existence. This dif- 
ference is an ultimate fact in mental science. It reveals two 
kinds of belief or confidence, similar in nature, yet also radically 
diverse. For hypothetical conviction cannot he explained as a 
special develop^nent of actualistic confidence : it is something 



118 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XVII. 

simple^ peculiar^ and incapable of definition, save through its 
relations, of which those to actualistic belief are the most im- 
portant. It is distinguished from this latter belief hy reason of 
its being founded on merely supposed antecedents ; and it is 
2l\so provisional for, and preparatory to, actualistic inference. 
For, so soon as belief in the reality of the antecedent takes the 
place of mere supposition, hypothetical conviction disappears, and 
is replaced by actualistic. 

As all the interest and importance of hypothetical inference 
lies in its being ministerial to the inference of fact from fact, 
we see how subordinate it is to actualistic belief. Evidently, 
also, the whole doctrine of hypothetical conviction confirms the 
more primary doctrine of actualistic knowledge and belief, and 
proves that behef always, in some sense, concerns existence. 



CHAPTER XVII. 
EVIDENCE. 

1. In the primarj^ sense, that only is knowledge or belief which 
is conviction concerning what is, or is held to be, actual fact. 
Whatever other mental states go under these names are so called 
because the}^ partly partake of the nature of true knowledge or 
belief, or are preparations for its exercise. We have seen how 
the definition of actualistic belief, as confidence in actual exist- 
ence, enables us to understand the nature of secondary forms of 
belief and knowledge, and especially that of hypothetical convic- 
tion ; this last being closely related to the inferential form of 
actualistic belief. We have now further to remark that a state- 
ment of the causes of actualistic belief loill prepare us to under- 
stand the origin of every mode of belief and knowledge. 

Since even those secondary mental states which are called 
belief and knowledge, without strictly being so, presuppose be- 
lief as to actuality, and that knowledge of fact which all belief 
strives to be, realities ma}^ be considered the first condition of all 
knowledge and belief whatever ; they certainly are the immediate 
condition of all true knowledge. 

But the existence of objects, though a condition of 

calfse^?^ile^ belief, exerts no eflSciency in the production of it; 

lief is wholly nor, indeed, can belief be accounted for by any po- 

^ ^^^ ' tency outside of the mind. The producing cause lies 



Chap. XVIL] EVIDENCE. 119 

wholly within j and It may be regarded as partly remote and 
partly immediate. The remote cause lies in the constitution of 
the soal as having innate and immanent powers of perception 
and of judgment ; the immediate is the action of these powers. 

The special nature of a power is shown only in its action or 
operation; and that of the action only in the phenomena — 
that is, the changes and states — immediately produced by it. 
For this reason, as we have already considered belief as a phe- 
nomenon, we have therein considered it also as a specific power 
and as a specific operation. We need not, discuss further the 
efficienc}' producing belief. 

Evidence is ^^^ ^ condition devoid of eflSciency is sometimes 
thecondi- called a cause, when, not being involved in our con- 
oifcmivic-^^ ception of a phenomenon, it is regarded as the chief 
tion. or only condition needful for its occurrence. Many 

other conditions may be as necessary to the event as that thus 
signalized ; but they are regarded as already existing or as 
already secured, and so as no longer needful to be supplied. 
Thus the insufficiency of water might be assigned as the cause 
of the explosion of a boiler, though such insufficiency in itself 
has no power, and onh' leaves the way open for the excessive 
generation of steam. In such cases the efficient cause is sup- 
posed already to exist, and to be in readiness to act ; the idea 
of it may be involved in the very conception of the phenomenon ; 
and the thought of the mind is principally directed to that condi- 
tion, on the supply of which the eflTect takes place. In this way 
we come to regard a mere condition as if it exercised the power 
producing some result, when really it is only the occasion, or, 
at the most, the excitant, of the efficienc3^ Now such generally 
seems to be our use of language when we speak of the cause or 
causes of conviction, and when we define "evidence" as that 
which naturally produces conviction. Blackstone says: ''Evi- 
dence signifies that which demonstrates, makes clear, or ascer- 
tains the truth of the very fact, or point at issue, either on the 
one side or on the other." Strictly speaking, evidence has no 
efficiency, and is only the special condition, on the occurrence of 
which conviction takes place. This being understood, evidence 
may he defined as that %ohicli is immediately productive of belief. 
Probable The words of Blackstone might be taken to mean 

evidence. that nothing is evidence which does not remove all 
doubt as to the point at issue. But this is not intended. Evi- 
dence includes all that may be the ground of rational conviction 
as to alleged fact, whether the conviction produced be absolute 
and certain or merel}' probable. Whatever exists, exists cer- 
tainly, and may be the object of absolute knowledge, and hence 



120 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XVII. 

also may be perceived through that certain or perfect evidence 
which is the cause of such knowledge. But often, not from au}^ 
difference in the degree of the realit}' of things, since whatever 
is real is perfectl}' real, but from something lacking in our means 
of knowing, we have to be content with evidence which is 
fit only to produce probable conviction. Frequentl}^, too, we 
have to act upon such evidence. Now that which is partial or 
imperfect can be understood only by reference to the complete 
or perfect ; therefore let us first study the nature of certain 
evidence, and after that we may consider probable evidence. 
„, , The word " fact" is commonly used to signify the 

The word . ^ - . •. r. ^i--t 

"fact" de- actual existence, or non-existence, of an3'thing consid- 
^^^ ered as assertible of that thing. Factum originally 

meant " that which has been done or made ; " but as an accom- 
plished result is a real thing, which it is not so long as it is 
merely purposed or contemplated, and since the question, Has 
the thing been effected? chieflj' asks. Does it, as a result, ex- 
ist ? the term ' ' fact " came to be applied to that which has an 
actual existence^ whether it be the product of some agency or 
not. We say it is a fact that there is a moon, and another fact 
that there are mountains in the moon ; and in this we set forth 
simply the existence of the moon and of the mountains in it. 
The essential point in everv fact — that which makes it a fact — 
is the existence, and not the nature, of the object, although of 
course no object could exist without having a definite nature. 
Whenever anything exists, its existence is a fact, no matter 
what the thing ma}^ be. In like manner, when an3'thing does 
not exist, we extend the term, and call the non-existence of it a 
fact. In short, this word signifies that which corresponds to, 
and is the object of, any proposition which is literally true. It 
may therefore be emplo3'ed to designate the object of literal 
knowledge, — that is, of certain and well-founded belief as to 
the actual existence of things. 
^, ., Now this knowledge — this absolute and correct 

The evidence . '=' 

of fact is of actualistic belief, the knowledge of literal lact — seems 
Perception to arise from the connection of the soul, as a think- 
or cognition ing substance, with the fact; and this connection is 
either immediate or mediate. In the former case the 
fact is either included in the life of the soul, or, if we maj' so 
speak, exists in contact with that life. In the latter case the 
fact is perceived, not directly, but through the knowledge of 
another fact with which it is necessarily co-existent. These 
two modes of knowing may be distinguished as presentational 
and as inferential perception. Both are forms of judgment, 
when this latter term is used in the widest sense, covering every 



Chap.XVIL] evidence. 121 

mode of forming convictions, and not in its stricter meaning, 
which includes onlj^ probable inference. Perception, in the broad 
signification now emplo3'ed, is precisely the equivalent of cog- 
nition ; so that, in actuahstic belief, there are two kinds of judg- 
ments, — first, perception or cognition, by which we perceive or 
cognize fact, either in itself or through other fact, and thus have 
knowledge ; and secondlj', judgment proper, which is the prob- 
able inference of fact from fact, and which originates belief 
proper, or probable conviction. With the latter we have nothing 
to do at present. 

The evidence, in an}' case of presentational percep- 
tive^an?' tiou, is simply the fact itself, considered, of course, 
evilierfce ^^ immediately subject to the cognizance of the think- 
ing being. Hence we say that the fact is self-evident. 
If one has a thought or a pain or a desire, what evidence has 
he of its existence save that it exists within the sphere of his 
immediate consciousness and notice? The fact as thus related 
is its own evidence ; nor can we conceive of any other cause 
of immediate knowledge than the fact itself as immediately 
related to our power of cognition. 

On the other hand, the evidence in inferential perception is 
not the fact perceived, but some other fact or facts with which 
it is necessaril}^ co-existent. Seeing a bird flying over a grove 
suddenl}^ collapse and fall immediately upon the report of a 
fowling-piece, we perceive that some unseen sportsman is suc- 
cessfully practising his art. 

Comparing these two kinds of evidence together, we may 
name the first presentative^ because, in a sense, it presents the 
existing object immediately to our perception. "Intuitional" 
might be a better term, had not "intuition" of late come to 
mean, not the immediate perception of fact, but only the im- 
mediate apprehension of necessitudinal, or ontological, relations 
and sequences. And the second kind of evidence ma}' be 
named illative, because in a sense it brings the existence of 
an object not immediately cognizable within the compass of 
our perception. 

Presenta- ^^^^ radical distinction, which refers to the use or 

tiveevi- nou-usc of mcaus in cognition, is allied to, and co- 
or/g^native, incident with, two other distinctions. First, with ref- 
iiiative evi- ercnce to the thought, or the conceptions, of the mmd, 

dence is ap- , , . . , ^ ' , t,"- , ; , . , 

piicative, of prcsentativc evidence may be called originative, be- 
thought, cause our ideas of the things perceived originate in 
the very perception of them ; while illative evidence may be 
termed applicative, since it merely enables us, according to cer- 
tain rational methods, to apply conceptions or propositions which 



122 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XVII. 

have been recalled to, or constructed b}", the mind, out of its ac- 
quired stores, to the explanation of any given case. If one has 
toothache, the idea of that pain is given in the \evy perception 
of it, whether it be a first or a subsequent perception ; the 
evidence in this case is presentative of the tootliache, and origi- 
native of the thought of the toothache. But when, without ex- 
amination of the tooth, loe infer that there is a decayed nerve 
from which the aching proceeds., the conceptions of this infer- 
ence must have been derived from a previous examination of 
aching teeth. In this case the evidence is applicative of the 
conception of a decayed nerve, and is illative of the fact of such 
a nerve. So when we see the bird falling, and hear the report 
of the fowling-piece, we have presentative and originative evi- 
dence of the fall of the bird and the noise of the gun ; but, sup- 
posing the sportsman to be out of sight, we have only illative 
and applicative evidence of his presence and skill. 
Presentative Secondly, with reference to the ground of our behef, 
evidence is prescntativc evidence may be called primordial., be- 
FiiaSvee?i- causc it is the immediate fountain of our primar}^ per- 
dence is logi- ccptlons, and the ultimate source from which every 
mode of ^ actualistic conviction draws its life or validity ; while 
conviction. jHative evidence may be termed logical., because it is 
employed ni reasoning, and is the means of deducing secondary 
from primar}' convictions. Possibl}' the truth thus indicated 
might be better stated should we first say that certain of our 
cognitions are primordial, not being dependent on any others, 
but being themselves the source whence all others are derived, 
while the rest of our convictions are logical or derivative ; and 
should we then sa}' that the evidence of our primordial cog- 
nitions may be distinguished as primordial, while that of our 
logical beliefs may be distinguished as logical. 

Primordial evidence is merely the fact or thing known consid- 
ered as in immediate connection with the thinking substance ; 
it is presentative evidence., vieiced^ hoioever., not simply in itself 
hut also as the foundation for illative evidence. Logical evi- 
dence consists either in primordial convictions so used as to 
derive other convictions from them, or in derivative convic- 
tions so used as to become in their turn the source of new 
convictions : it is illative evidence^ viewed 7iot simply as to 
its effect but also as to the nature and ground of its operation. 
To explain the modes and laws of derivative conviction is the 
chief office of logic. 

To illustrate logical evidence let us suppose that one sees 
money put into a pocket-book, and then sees the pocket-book 
put into a desk. He now has presentative and primordial evi- 



Chap. XVIL] EVIDENCE. 123 

dence as to the relation of the money to the pocket-book and as 
to the relation of the pocket-book to the desk, while his knowl- 
edge of these facts is the iHative and logical evidence that the 
money is in the desk. Again, to enable one to conclude that a 
certain cupful of black powder is explosive, let one have ob- 
served several times that a certain pulverized composition of 
sulphur, saltpetre, and charcoal, called gunpowder, will explode ; 
and let him know, from examination, that this powder in hand 
is gunpowder : he has now presentative evidence of these facts, 
or at least a remembrance in which the result of that evidence is 
reproduced ; for he has observed the facts themselves. And he 
has logical evidence that the powder in the cup, which has not 
yet exploded, will explode if ignited, or is explosive, because 
the facts already observed, considered in their relation to this 
derivative conviction, are logical evidence. In the above 
instances the knowledge employed as logical evidence is it- 
self supported by primordial evidence ; but any knowledge, 
whether obtained by observation or by inference, may serve 
as logical evidence. 

The doctrine that presentative evidence, or presen- 
between^^^^ tational cognition, is primordial to all our convictions, 
amfmadv? ^"^ Originative of all the conceptions used in them, 
evidence Cannot be full}^ vindicated without discussing thor- 
statedf^^ oughly the various modes of conviction. It can, how- 
ever, be defined without further discussion. First, in 
saying that immediate perception is the origin of all thought, we 
mean onl}^ that presentation furnishes all the materials or ele- 
m.ents of conception. We admit that new constructions of 
thought not only take place in connection with inference, but 
are a condition of it. When we say, " The powder in that cup 
is explosive," we unite the idea of explosiveness to that of this 
cupful of powder ; and this combination is new, though we had 
the elements of it before making it. So also there is a new syn- 
thesis of thought when we conclude that the money is in the 
dosk, that the bird which has fallen has been shot by the unseen 
sportsman, and that the aching proceeds from decay in this 
hollow molar. 

The question, however, ma}' be asked. Is it absolutely true 
that the mind originates no elements of conception in inference ? 
For example, might not the thought of the necessar}' connection 
of the fact inferred with the facts already known be immediatel}^ 
produced by the intellect on the occasion of its first inferences? 
To this we reply that were there any necessit}' for it, we might 
suppose the mind to have the power to conceive not only of the 
necessary connections, but also of the radical natures of the 



124 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XVIIL 

things inferred, without having directly perceived snch natures 
in such connections previously. There are certain fundamental 
elements of conception, which correspond with certain funda- 
mental elements of entit}-, and which enter into all thinking ; 
and we might attribute to the mind a power of generating these 
elementary conceptions at the time of its first inferences. But 
we can discover no need for such a theory so far, at least, as 
regards the human spirit. It seems sufficient to say that these 
conceptions are primaril}^ produced as parts of our presentational 
cognitions. The doctrine appears sustainable, that every ele- 
ment of inferential thought has been originally experienced in 
immediate perception. 

Secondl}", in saying that our presentational perceptions are 
primordial as related to our illative actualistic convictions, we 
do not mean to say that inference has not a force of its own, in 
addition to that of immediate cognition, or to that which memory 
may reproduce from such cognition. On the contrary, it has 
such a force ; and this must he recognized as an ultimate fact 
in mental science. AVhen a chain hangs from a hook fastened 
in a beam, there is strength in each link of the chain as well as 
in the hook. When a column rests on a pedestal and upholds a 
roof, there is supporting power in the column as well as in the 
pedestal. So actualistic inferential conviction, though founded 
on presentational, has a confidence that is peculiarly its own. 
That such is the case is evident from the fact that illation, or 
inference, produces new conmctions. We form beliefs about - 
things in the future or in the distance, and about whose exist- 
ence we never heard before. Such beliefs cannot be explained 
as merely the reproduction of old perceptions. 



CHAPTER XYIII. 

PRESENT ATIONALISM. 

1. The operation of presentative evidence is very 
vievvs.^^ ^° simple. There is no process. The object as existing 
^xxox^^^ in, or in immediate relation to, the experience of the 
soul, is immediateh' perceived — that is, absolutely and 
correctly judged to exist — either as a part of the experience or 
as related to it. That which is simple does not call for explana- 
tion ; but the question arises, What facts ^ or classes of fact, are 



Chap. XVllL] PRESENTATIONALISM. 125 

immediately perceived by us f and philosophers have not been 
agreed in rendering an answer. 

They concur onl}^ in teaching that the soul has an 
views^^stat- immediate knowledge of its own operations and ex- 
eJ and ad- perieuces, — that the consciousness of psj'chical life 
Psychical is presentational ; be3-ond this there is no general 
atfveiy^^^*" accord. The following views, however, respecting 
known. points of discussion, commend themselves. 
^uf,or%o, Ii^ the first place, we have presentative evidence as 
aiid its to the existence of the powers of the soul and also as 

DOWGITS 

to the existence of the ego^ or thinking substance, to 
which these powers belong. In other words, a man is conscious 
of his own existence and of that of his powers in the same 
manner that he is conscious of his spiritual activities. The truth 
is that action, potenc}', and agent are all perceived at once, and 
in the one exercise of consciousness. The doctrine that our first 
knowledge of the faculties of the soul, and of the soul itself, is a 
kind of inference from the operation of the faculties, oxAy this 
last being immediately perceived, has originated from the fact 
that the ego and its powers are perceived on the occasion 
of the exercise of the powers, and not at any other time ; but 
this shows merely that psychical change is always the exci- 
tant, not that it is ever the medium, of the perceptions of 
consciousness. 

We might account for the cognition of the ego by giving the 
mind a wonderful ability to conceive something such as it has 
never perceived, and to conceive also a necessary connection of 
this something with another something which is perceived, and 
in addition to this, the power to infer the existence of the former 
something from that of the latter, — that is, to infer the agent or 
his power from the action with which they both necessaril}' co- 
exist. This doctrine is not unintelligible ; nor can it be con- 
demned as far from the truth. But the more satisfactory view 
IS that the mind forms its conceptions of substance and power in 
the very act of perceiving these things and from immediate con- 
tact with them in their operation, and not that it first imagines 
them as things not directh^ known or seen, and after that judges 
them to exist. As will become plainer in the course of this dis- 
cussion, it is more natural to hold that^ originally and ordi- 
narily, we perceive that we have souls and powers operating^ 
than to say that ice infer that we must have soids and poioei's 
because they operate. We do not deny that such an inference 
maj' be made, for we might infer wherever there is a necessary'' 
connection ; but in our view, such is not our original nor even 
our ordinary mode of cognition. 



126 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XVIII. 

We have Again, we have presentative evidence of the exist- 

presenta^ gnce of matter and its qualities, — that is, of the mat- 

tive knowl- , „ ^ -,• -, n , , i 

edge of our ter oi our own bodies, and oi such other matter as 
of such mat- ^^^J come into immediate contact with our nervous 
ter as im- sjstem ; for It is now agreed that the rest of the uni- 
Sfect'^s^tife verse is known only inferentiall3\ Sir William Ham- 
nerves, iiton has discussed this point at length. He divides 
those philosophers who accept the reality of matter into two 
classes, — the one the '' Natural Realists," who hold to an im- 
mediate perception, " founding their doctrine on the natural 
consciousness or common sense of men ; " and the other the 
" Hypothetical Realists," who hold to an inferential perception, 
in which the mind, on the occasion of its sensation, forms con- 
ceptions of matter and its qualities, and then believes in the ex- 
istence of these things because of their necessary connection 
with sensation as its cause. 

As the word '' natural " is not precise, and as " hypothetical'* 
might suggest the idea of a mere hypothesis held without evi- 
dence, — an imputation rejected by the class of thinkers named, 
— it might be better to say presentational and inferential 
realists., than natural and hypothetical. It should be noticed 
that the term '' realism" here is used in a sense different from 
that which belongs to it historically, and which concerns, not 
perceptions, but abstract and general notions. 

Comparing these two forms of doctrine — presentational and 
inferential realism — with each other, we find that they do not 
materially differ as to the producing cause of our conceptions 
of matter and its powers. Both teach that our idea of matter 
as an external and extended something endowed with certain at- 
tributes arises wholly from the mind's own power of thought, 
and is not at all impressed upon us from without. Neither ex- 
plains the mj'Stery, the simple ultimate fact, of the origination 
of thought. 

Again, each doctrine in its own way provides for a belief in 
the external world. The inferential realist sa3^s that on the 
occasion of a sensation, by a necessity of our mental constitution, 
we conceive of a certain external cause, acting under certain 
conditions, as necessarily connected with the sensation, and that, 
the sensation being perceived to exist, we necessarih^ infer the 
existence of the cause. To him the sensation is the proof or 
sign of the cause, and he rejects other evidence as needless. 
Such a doctrine is not absurd ; for illative evidence is possible 
whenever one thing can be conceived of as necessarily connected 
with another. But the presentationalist may reply that it is 
more philosophical to regard our first perception of the correla- 



Chap. XVIII.] PRESENTATIONALISM. 127 

lives, matter and sensation, as presentative and originative, and 
to bold that the inference of body and its attributes from sensa- 
tions, if it takes place at all, only takes place afterwards, and 
obtains its conceptions from the analysis of presentational 
knowledge. 

Further, we cannot see that the doctrines in question differ as 
to that absolute certainty iDhich each provides as belonging to 
our perception of matter and its powers. When we are cer- 
tain of the connection of some consequent with some antecedent, 
then we may be as sure that the consequent exists as that the 
antecedent does ; this is the confidence of the inferential realist. 
On the other hand, nothing can be more absolute than the cer- 
taint}" of immediate cognition, which is claimed by the presenta- 
tional realist. 

Finall}', ine can scarcely say that one of these theories is more 
" natxiraV than the other ^ meaning by this that it is more agree- 
able to the ordinary consciousness of men. Although our per- 
ception of the parts of the bodil}' organism, and of such material 
agents as may directly affect them, seems immediate, so also 
does our perception of distant objects, which is confessedly in- 
ferential, — for example, the sight of a tree or of a house. In- 
deed, not all one's perceptions respecting his own person are 
presentative. "Natural," therefore, no less than "hypotheti- 
cal," is a term unduly suggestive. 

Points of The true point of difference between presentational 

difterence. and inferential realism is that the former makes the 
entatiouai sensation, the sensation itself, the occasion on which 
realism. ^^ mind perceives, at once and together, the sensa- 
tion and all the causal and conditional entities immediately con- 
nected with it, such as matter and its powers, and their action, 
and the time and place of their operation, — the conception of 
these things being of course included in the perception of them ; 
whereas inferential realism makes the sensation the occasion 
only of the perception of the sensation, and then makes this per- 
ception the occasion of the conception and of the inference of 
the other entities. 

Of these two theories the former, presentational realism, is the 
preferable. In the first place, it is the simpler. It concedes 
but one mode of originative perception, the presentative, and so 
also makes all illative perception purely applicative ; that is, it 
agrees with the doctrine that presentational perception alone 
originates the conceptions of the objects perceived, and that 
illative perception makes use of conceptions previously ac- 
quired and possessed, and in some wa}^ suggested or re- 
called. But inferential realism makes two modes of originative 



128 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XVIII. 

perception, the one presentative and the other illative, and so 
also two modes of illative perception, the originative and the 
applicative. 

In the next place, the actual presence of the soul at and 
throughout the place of a bodily feeling^ which presence is now 
generally conceded as an immediate cognition, — that is, the ob- 
ject of an immediate cognition, — fuvjiishes the only condition 
of the immediate perception of matter and its operation lohich 
seems necessary to he supplied. The sensation, thougli within 
the spirit, ma}^ be regarded as occupying the place where the 
soul and the animal organism as affecting it meet each other, — - 
the place of contact between the ego and the non-ego in any 
sensation. If this be so, maj^ not the spirit, in the place of the 
feeling, immediately, and in the same one act, perceive both the 
sensation and itself, the subject of the sensation, and the ex- 
tended organism, the cause of it? Moreover, as to the place, the 
time, and the various intimate relations of the things perceived, 
it is as easy to regard them as immediatel}^ known, — that is, at 
once conceived of and believed in, — as to suppose them first con- 
ceived of in connection with the thought of the sensation and its 
causes, and thereupon inferred to exist because of the existence 
of these correlatives. 

Finally, the doctrine of inferential realism is somewhat con- 
nected iDith erro7ieoiis views^ the rejection of lohich leaves it 
without any strong support. The idea that spirit Is so related 
to space that it cannot pervade the bodj' has just been noticed 
as an exploded theor3\ Again, it is no longer taught that the 
human intellect is capable of only one tliought at once ; on the 
contrar3', the mind is allowed considerable compass of concep- 
tion. We may regard the perception of matter and its powers, 
and of the conditions of its existence and operation, not to fol- 
low, but to accompau}', that of sensation. Moreover, the view 
that the different parts of a complex jt;Ae72ome?207A, because sepa- 
rately conceivable^ have an existence separable from each other ^ 
and can be perceived separately.,!^ merely a pliilosophical fiction. 
The fact is, in original perception we perceive, not the feeling 
merel}', but the ego as having it ; not sensible affections and 
changes merely, but matter as having them ; never time and 
space alone, but things and events as existing in them and con- 
ditioned upon them. Our subsequent and independent concep- 
tions of these things are the abstractions of mentnl analysis. 
Such being the case, we may reasonably hold that things which 
exist together, and all of which equallv are immediately related 
to the mind, may all be perceived immediately and in the same 
mental movement. 



Chap.XVIIII presentatjonalism, 129 

Certain re- ^- Ordinary language speaks only of material 
lations and things^ iDith their qualities and changes, as the objects 
So"and^o?^ of sense-pevception ; that is, onh' such things are said 
the»on-e<7o to be seeii, heard, touched, tasted, and so on. In 
atfvefrper- hke manner, only our souls and their pouters and 
ceived. operations are mentioned as the objects of internal 

perception^ or consciousness. The reason is tiiat language is 
founded on an anah'sis, and is not designed or fitted to express 
at once all of a complex of phenomena, but only that portion 
which may be important to notice. Very often we desire to 
know whether or not some object has been perceived, and we 
have no need or no desire to ask, Where or when has it been 
perceived? Indeed, the perception of the object and the per- 
ception of its time and place, though closely connected facts, are 
distinct in their nature and in their logical relations. For these 
reasons language separates the perception of the thing from that 
of its time and place and relations. It is not strictly literal 
therefore to say, as some do, that place and distance, size and 
number, are perceived by the senses^ or to say, with others, that 
we are conscious of time and succession, of sameness and differ- 
ence, and so forth. 

On this account, and because such cognitions as those of 
time and place, of quantity and number, and of collocation, 
succession, and other relations, accompany sense-perception 
and consciousness alike, and pertain to the objects of both, 
we have proposed a third class of presentational cognitions ; 
and this we have named concomitant perception^ because it 
accompanies the perception of the ego and of the non-ego. For 
these and their powers and operations are never cognized per 
se, or alone, but always as diverse from each other, as in- 
fluencing each other, as having number and quantity, and as 
existing and operating in time and space, and as otherwise 
related. Granting the presentational perception of the ego and 
of the non-ego, and of their potencies and actings, it is difficult 
to deny that of the space and time in which they exist, and that 
of their immediate relations to these things and to each other. 
There seems to be no difference between our cognition of the 
concomitant and our cognition of the principal objects, save onlj^ 
that we regard the latter with a more direct and a more inter- 
ested attention. 

We have now exhaustively described the objects of presenta- 
tional perception. They include not merely psychical changes.^ 
and such material changes as take p)lace in immediate connec- 
tion with them, but also spirit and matter, loith their pow- 
ers and operations^ together with time, space, quantity, and 

9 



130 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XVIII. 

relation as the objects of concomitant perception. Thus there 
is no kind of entit}^ which is not imraediateh^ perceived. 

This whole doctrine is more comprehensive than that of pres- 
entational realism, which relates only to the perception of 
matter, and therefore it may be designated by the unrestricted 
term ' ' presentationalism ; " while the opposite theorj^ which is 
more comprehensive than inferential realism, may be stj'led 
" inferentialism." 

3. A pernicious heres}', which is opposed to both 
Kantianism. ^^iQ^e doctrines, since to a great extent it denies the re- 
alit}" of our perceptions, may here be noticed. It has been named, 
from its author, Kantianism. Immanuel Kant was born in 
1724 in Konigsberg, in Eastern Prussia, and died there in 1804, 
eight years after Reid died in Glasgow. His father, a saddler, 
was of Scotch descent. During forty years Kant was an emi- 
nent teacher in the university of his native cit}^ and for a much 
longer period his ideas controlled the speculation of Germany. 
Dissatisfied with the teaching of Descartes and Leibnitz, who 
placed the ultimate ground of human belief in a certain inward 
clearness of conception, Kant devised a new theor3\ According 
to him perception results from two factors, sensibility and reason. 
By the first of these the soul comes into contact with things ; by 
the second its knowledge is given form, without which it would 
not be knowledge, but mere sensibility. This knowledge, this 
result of the combination of sensibility with reason, he calls 
experience. 

The forms with which reason clothes our diverse feelings not 
only originate within, but, so far as we can judge, represent 
nothing without ; for they neither resemble external things nor 
have the}^ any direct connection with them, but only with our 
sensibilit3\ Hence space, time, substance, quantit}', power, ac- 
tion, and even relation are mere ideas of the mind. In his 
" Transcendental Esthetic " Kant sums up his philosophy of 
perception as follows: " The things which we perceive are not 
what we take them to be, nor their relations of such intrinsic 
nature as they appear to us to be. If we make abstraction of 
ourselves as knowing subjects, or even only of the subjective 
constitution of our senses generalh^ all the qualities, all the 
relations, of objects in space and time, yes, and even space and 
time themselves, disappear. As phenomena they cannot exist 
really per se, but only in us. What may be the character of 
things in themselves and wholly separated from our receptive 
sensibihty, remains wholly unknown to us." Thus Kant allows 
that there are " things in themselves," but declares that our 
knowledge of what they are is wholly illusory. 



Chap. XVIII.] PRE SENT ATIONALISM. 131 

In regard to this famous theory we remark, first, that 
Inconsistent .^ .^ inconsistent in maintaining 'the existence of ^' the 
thing in itself," that is, of a reality external to us and existing 
apart from our experience. Since this thing is different from 
the modification of our sensibility, our conception of it, however, 
indefinite, is no part of our experience, but must, like time, 
space, and relation, be a gift of '' reason." If, then, we have 
no ground to believe in the existence of such entities as space, 
time, and relation, of which reason gives us the ideas, what 
ground have we to believe in any " thing in itself J' beyond and 
distinguishable from our experience? Fichte, the founder of 
German idealism, seeing this, threw away '' the thing in itself," 
and maintained only the existence of the ego and its activity. 
Indeed, Kantianism logically led to the aboUtion also of the ego 
as a substantial entity, and to that extreme idealism of Hegel 
which left nothing external or internal save the modification and 
development of thought. 

Again, we remark that the doctrine of Kant is 
founded on a partial apprehension of truth and a 
partial acceptance of evidence. It asserts truly that thought 
originates within, and belongs wholh' to the mind, and that all 
real knowledge begins in connection with experience. But it is 
wofull}' mistaken in not finding that our neceasitudinal^ or onto- 
logical^ conceptions exist first of all as elements of the presenta- 
tional perception of fact, and in disalloicing the validity of our 
primordial knowledge ; these two mistakes being closel}' related. 
Presentative knowledge is revealed by consciousness, so that we 
have the same evidence for the fact of this knowledge that we 
have for the fact of thought. We know that we know in the 
same wa}^ that we know that we think. Why accept the latter 
fact and reject the former? Certainly, unless there be good 
reason to invalidate the absolute natural confidence of our cog- 
nitions, it must stand. Nay, it will stand, whatever reasons 
may be brought against it, and however cogent they maj* appear. 
No argument can convince a man that he has no bod3\ and that 
he does not exist in space and during time. The immediate 
knowledge of present facts cannot be reasoned away ; one might 
as easily reason away the facts themselves. Such being the case, 
idealists and nihilists have cause to inquire whether there be not 
something sophistical or misleading in their methods of thought. 
But, in truth, and as we might expect, critical examination 
shows that there is not one sound reason for doubting our 
primordial perceptions, but, on the contrary, many confirma- 
tions of them. Especially it is true that they are all absolutely 
consistent with each other and with all derivative convictions ; 



132 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XVIIL 

that they exist alike in all men, and never deceive any ; and that 
inconsistenc}' and falsehood are to be found only in the region 
of mistaken inference. 

The offspring Once more we observe that Kantianism finds its 
of error. chief support in various errors, more or less plausible, 
from which philosophy has freed herself in recent times. The 
Cartesians taught that mind is unextended., and can have no 
direct connection with matter. According to this doctrine, the 
presentational perception of matter and of its sense-affecting 
powers is inconceivable. Again, it was generally assumed that 
an}' adequate idea of a thing Tnust he an image or impression 
derived from the object in some icay and similar to it. This 
doctrine restricted perception to a sense or knowledge of what 
can affect our sensibility, excluding such things as space, time, 
and relation. In the next place, philosophers, from Plato down, 
gave the intellect a power of immediately forming general 
notions to he afterwards combined with each other and applied 
to individual objects ; and this doctrine underhes Kant's con- 
ception of " the pure reason." It is clear that the products of 
such a power, if there were one, might be more easily doubted 
than those of presentational perception, in which first, as it is 
now taught, the ideas of reason are embodied, and from which 
the}" are subsequently generalized. Further, the assumption 
that sensation or feeling gives or constitutes the knoidedge of 
itself ichile other objects do 7iot furnish ideas of themselves, is 
at the base of Kantianism. So far as we can see, the thought 
of the sensation, equally with that of the other things perceived, 
though originating on the occasion of the sensation, springs 
directly and solely from the soul's own power of cognition. 

It was also an error to hold, as Kant did, that because ^ con- 
tingent,'^ or experiential, elements of entity are perceived only 
jpresentatively , or as connected with presentatio7is , loe onay not 
also perceive the necessitudinal, or ontologiccd, ioi the same way. 
The natural inference from this is that since presentation and 
inference from presentation are our only modes of perceiving 
fact, the ontological elements of entity are not really per- 
ceived at all. This inference is suggested by Kant's opposition 
of "empirical, or a posteriori, cognitions," as conditioned on 
experience, with '-'■ pure, or a priori, cognitions, which take place 
independently ofcdl experience whatever'' The fact is, as will 
be seen more fully hereafter, the experiential and the necessi- 
tudinal are cognized in the same way, on the same evidence, at 
the same time, and as existing in inseparable combination. 
Only afterwards, and by means of abstraction, the ontological 
is thought of apart from the various m^odes of the contingent. 



Chap. XIX] ILLATIVE EVIDENCE. 133 

Finally, it is not true, as the old doctrine of "ideas" im- 
plied, that our primordial cognitions deal with representations 
or appearances of things^ and not %oith the things themselves. 
While Kant allowed that things realh^ exist, he denied that " the 
thing in itself" — that is, the external thing, as having indepen- 
dent existence — is, or can be, the object of immediate cognition. 
Hence the doubt arose. Is it the object of cognition at all? 

Presentationalism, on the other hand, anah'zing the idea of 
immediate knowledge given us by consciousness, and testing 
the truth of it in every possible waj', affirms that so far as we 
truly know, we know the thing in itself, — that the perceptive 
operation of the mind correctly apprehends the thing about 
which it is conversant, the thing itself, as it is, and not some 
delusion. 



CHAPTER XIX. 
ILLATIVE EVIDENCE. 

niati^emore 1- EVIDENCE is more frequently mentioned in con- 
thX'"resen- ^^^^^^^ ^'^^^ inferential than in connection wdth pres- 
tativeevi- entational knowledge. Sometimes, when recognizing 
dence. ^ ^-^^^ ^g self-evident, we even sa}- it does not need 

any evidence, and mean b}^ this that it has no need of illative 
evidence. Thus one kind of evidence has a pre-eminence over 
the other. The reason is that the questioning of the mind 
seldom rests on the act of immediate perception, as this al- 
ways produces certainty, but is often necessarily concerned 
with inference. Both kinds of evidence, however, should be the 
objects of philosophic stud3\ 

In liioso- -A-gain, in cases of inferential conviction, we often 
phy'evidence characterize that onlv as evidence which is the final 
Sy/ trmhs'''^^ ^"^^ determining condition of belief, and which, there- 
necessary in fore, alone needs to be submitted in order to produce 
conclusion, convictiou. Thus we might sa\', "The only evidence 
of fire in that house is that smoke issues from the 
chimney." In short, the word "evidence," having a practical 
reference, commonly stands only for those facts or truths neces- 
sary to be employed for conviction. But if, in addition to the 
foregoing, we felt called upon to submit the general truth that 
smoke necessarily and in all cases comes from fire, this also 
would be styled " evidence." In order to show a jurj' ignorant 



134 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XIX. 

of the nature of stiychnine, that a man was poisoned by this 
drug, the evidence would be needed, first, that strychnine is a 
poison, and, secondly', that this poison was in some way par- 
taken of by the man. In the searching and comprehensive 
inquiries of philosoplij", we ask for all the conditions of convic- 
tion ; therefore we must now include under evidence all the facts 
or truths necessary to some conclusion, whether in practical life 
thej^ all need to be mentioned or not. 

When we speak of the ground or grounds of a 
belief "^de-*^ belief, — the plural word indicating either more proofs 
"Proof" *^^^ ^^^ ^^ ^^® existence of parts in one proof, — we 
mean verj' nearly the same as the evidence productive 
of the belief. The difference between the terms seems to be 
that evidence is confined to the conditions of actualistic belief. 
We speak of the grounds, but not of the evidence, of a purely 
h^'pothetical conviction. The suppositions which constitute the 
ground of a hypothetical belief, though merelj^ thoughts without 
objects, exactl}" correspond to the facts and truths which are 
the evidence of a similar actualistic conviction. The proof of a 
statement or proposition is simply the evidence which makes it 
apparent, or the ground for our belief in it, considered as in- 
tentionally used to produce correct conviction. 
The term ^^ \ih\Q already seen that in cases of presentation 

"evidence" the thing itself, as in immediate relation to the per- 
is used both ,. . ,, .' ^ ^ • M» 

objectively ccptivc powcr, IS generally mentioned as being selr- 
tiveiy^^^^^" evident, — in other words, as its own evidence. But 
it is to be noted that we also speak of the evidence of 
consciousness, of sense, of sight, of hearing, and so on ; and 
this way of speaking brings to view the real productive cause of 
conviction. So, likewise, in inference, we sometimes mean by 
evidence the facts lohich^ as viewed by the mind., sustain some 
conviction, and at other times the propositional truths vnhich 
set forth the facts. In short, the term is applied both objec- 
tivel}' and subjectivelj'. Each sense implies the other ; neither 
can be condemned as incorrect. In actualistic inference the 
facts themselves, as distinguished from the propositions setting 
them forth, may literally be spoken of as evidence. This, of 
course, is not the case in that inference which is based merel}" 
on supposition. In all cases, however, the mind in some sense 
thinks of things, and infers by reference to the nature of things ; 
nor can the laws of inference be formulated save in terras ex- 
pressive of objectual relations. In short, propositional evidence 
is such onl}' because of its actual or supposable correspondence 
with fact. Therefore, if we stud}' the facts as evidence we 
shall understand the propositions also. This, too, will reveal 



Chap. XIX.] ILLATIVE EVIDENCE. 135 

the nature of the grounds of h3'pothetical conviction, as these 
are simpl}' supposed facts or realities. 

Inference '^'he relation of presentative to illative evidence, and 

originates that also of presentational to inferential perception, 

construe- , , .^ . , ^ . . ^, ^ i . .' 

tionsof has been given in characterizing the one as origi- 
theh-^attend- ^^'^^^^^ of tliought, and as the primordial source of 
antconvic- conviction, while the other is merely applicative and 
*^^^* deductive. In saying that there is no origination of 

thought in inference, we mean that no new element is added to 
the material of thought., and not that no neio construction of 
thought takes place. Let one weigh a bagful of feathers in a 
scale, and after taking them away let him balance the scale 
again by supplying lead instead of feathers. We now know the 
double fact tliat the feathers are of a given weight and that 
the lead also is of that weight. From this we conclude that 
the feathers and lead are equal to each other in weight. In 
general terms we say, " A and B are each equal to C, and 
therefore the}' are equal to one another." Now this equalit}' of 
A to B, of the feather weight to the lead weight, may have 
been thought of for the first time in connection with the infer- 
ence, and may differ from an}" construction of thought ever pres- 
entationally received. Nevertheless, as we believe, the various 
component ideas — of feathers, lead, weight, equality, co-exist- 
ence, necessity — which constitute the new construction of 
thought, have been previously entertained and were originally 
presentations. Without this power of forming new construc- 
tions, neither imagination nor reasoning would be possible ; and 
all mental action, after our first perceptions, would be restricted 
to memory and its modifications. 

Moreover, in calling presentational perception primordial^ we 
mean, not that it furnishes the force of the conviction attending 
inference, but only that it is the necessary antecedent and con- 
dition of inferential conviction. Presentational cognition is the 
foundation and support of all knowledge, and in this way the 
beginning of all certainty. Yet the conviction consequent upon 
illative evidence, like the new construction of thought which it 
accompanies, is something new, and is not derived from the force 
of the presentative evidence. As a bridge resting on piers has 
a strength of its own not derived from the piers, so an inferen- 
tial conviction, while resting on facts, has a strength of its own 
not derived from the facts. This, indeed, is the sole strength 
belonging to hypothetical knowledge, which may therefore be 
compared to a movable bridge, not in actual service, but ready 
to rest on piers so soon as they may be found in the proper 
place. But as the strength of the bridge when resting on its 



136 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XIX. 

piers is the medium through which the strength of these sup- 
ports is felt, and completely unites its action with theirs, so the 
force of logical evidence completely unites itself with that of 
primordial evidence whenever an inference is fairl}^ founded on 
perceived realities. 

radical ^' ^^ ^^*^ ^^^^ prepared for a question concerning 
law of all which there has been much discussion and much di- 
inference. ycrsity of vicw, namcl}', What is the radical mode or 
law of thought belonging to all inference? More specificalh', 
What is the generic form of that construction of thought in 
which the mind makes icse of illative evidence ? If the nature 
of belief and judgment, and the distinction between presenta- 
tional and inferential perception be as alreadj' described, then 
the form of inference alwaj's is, " This exists ; therefore that 
exists." We think of one entity or complex of entities, called 
the reason, or antecedent, as existing ; and of another entit}" or 
complex of entities, called the consequent, as existing also ; and 
of a necessit}" attached to the existence of the antecedent for the 
existence of the consequent. This necessity is expressed by 
" therefore," and other words of similar meaning. Such is the con- 
struction of thought in all inference ; the confidence of belief or 
knowledge, which takes place in connection with this form of 
thought, follows upon the belief exercised in connection with the 
conception of the antecedent, and attaches itself to the thought 
of the necessity of co-existence and to that of the consequent as 
necessarily co-existent. 

The name of "^^^^ ^^^' ^^ fixed modc, of mental action, which 
the law. In the miud obe3's in constructing the foregoing form of 
drne<?f ac-"' thought and accompanying it with new belief, has 
**""-n"^"°* been styled the principle, or law, of reason and conse- 
of^knowi-^ quent. Of these expressions, the term " law " is less 
®*^se. ambiguous than " principle," to indicate the essential 

and universal mode of all inference. The term "principle" 
might signify a general truth known to the mind and applied by 
it in its reasonings ; but we now speak of a form of mental 
action in which or according to which {not from which) 
the mind reasons. The law of reason and consequent is the 
universal principle of inference somewhat in the same wa}' that 
the law of gravitation may be said to be a principle, or radi- 
cal mode, of the action of matter. It is the fundamental law 
according to which the power of reasoning acts. 

Now everj' principle, or law, of action may jield a principle 
of knowledge. That which in itself is merely a law of action, 
when apprehended by the mind, becomes — that is, furnishes — 
a general truth from which we may reason variously as to the 



Chap. XIX.] ILLATIVE EVIDENCE. 137 

operation of the law. From the law of gravitation as mentally 
apprehended, we can reason that an}- particular piece of matter 
will gravitate ; so from the law of reason and consequent we 
can infer that any particular case of inference is from a reason 
to a consequent, from tlie existence of a determining condition 
to that of the entity conditioned. 

But the law as apprehended, or the conception of the law, is 
to he distinguished f 7' om the law itself. The former is a ground 
of deduction, but not the latter. The law of reason and conse- 
quent is the mode of the mind's action in forming an inference ; 
but in itself it is not the ground of any inference. 

This law, as mentally apprehended^ as a general truth setting 
forth the radical nature of reasoning, so far from being an uni- 
versal ground of inference, is a ground of inference only when 
toe may be reasoning about reasoning^ and not lohen ice may 
he reasoning about other things. In such cases our use of it 
only exemplifies the operation of one or other of those specific 
principles which govern reasoning from general truths. We 
may reason tluis : "All inference is from an antecedent to a 
consequent ; from smoke we infer fire ; therefore here is an 
antecedent and a consequent." In this case the law of reason 
and consequent, as a general truth, forms part (only part) of the 
reason which the two premises compose ; the principle, or law, 
underlying the argument, and according to which (not from 
which) we reason, is, " What belongs to anything in the gen- 
eral., must belong to it in any individual instance.'^ But even 
this law is onl}- a specific example of the generic law of reason 
and consequent. 

It is true that in every inference we not only think, 
iie"sTfThe but think consciously^ of one entity or complex of 
ference^cioes ^"^i^^^^ ^^ existing, and of another as necessarily co- 
not involve cxistcnt with it, and so deduce the existence of the 
from^tSaw hotter from that of the former. In other words, while 
of reason and inferring, we more or less distinctly understand what 
consequen . ^^^ ^^^ doing. But wc cau givc uo rcason why the 
one entit}^ is a reason and the other a consequent, or why we 
should thus form an inference. So that we do not reason from 
one thing to another because we perceive them to he reason and 
consequent., but we perceive things to be reason and consequent 
because we can reason from the one to the other. In short, the 
law of reason and consequent as a principle of knowledge — ■ 
the statement that " ever}' inference has an antecedent and a 
necessarj' consequent " — helps to test what professes to be an 
inference, and to analyze what is known to be such ; but it 
never reveals whether or not a case of consequence maj^ exist, 



138 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XIX 

or what consequent, in any case, should follow a given ante- 
cedent. On the other hand, the law of reason and consequent 
in itself is the radical mode of action experienced in every op- 
eration of the reasoning power. The fact, whatever it ma}^ be, 
which constitutes the antecedent, suggests the fact related to 
it as consequent ; and thereupon we infer, not from the law of 
reason and consequent, but from a reason to a consequent, and 
according to the law of reason and consequent. 
Every true ^^ spcakiog of rcasou and consequent, it is to be 
reason is a understood that every reason is specially fitted by its 

sufficient or, ,, n '^ ^ -i 

adequate nature to DC a reason for its consequent, and, con- 
reason, versely, that every consequent is similarly fitted to be 
a consequent of its reason. It would be absurd to say that any 
reason may serve for any consequent. To suppose this — that 
we could infer an3'thing from anything — would be to destroy our 
conception of reasoning. Hence the law of inference has been 
characterized, sometimes, as the " law of sufficient reason.'* 
Possibly it might be better named the " law of adequate rea- 
son^'' meaning a reason fitted by its nature to involve the 
existence of the consequent in its own existence. As already 
suggested, this is really part of our conception of a reason ; for 
every true reason is an adequate one. But the expression 
brings the fact to view that the law contains two elements : 
first, that the existence of the consequent is necessarilj' con- 
nected with that of the antecedent ; and, secondly, that this 
necessary connection arises out of the special natures and nat- 
ural relations of antecedent and consequent. Thus the reason, 
" James is the father of William, who is the father of John," 
has the consequent, " James is the grandfather of John." Whj^? 
Because the double antecedent-fact and the single consequent- 
fact are of such a nature, and are so related by reason of their 
nature, that the former cannot exist without the latter. 
The law of ^0 far, for the sake of simplicity of statement, we 
reason and havc spokcu of the law of inference as if it alwa3-s 
more fully proceeded from one existing entity* to another entity 
Ftated. necessarily co-existent. But it is to be noticed that 

inferential no less than presentative judgment and belief con- 
sider the non-existent as well as the existent, and that we infer 
not only from the existent to the existent^ but also from the 
existent to the non-existent^ and from the non-existent to the 
existent and to the non-existent. By the non-existent, of course, 
we mean non-existence in a case where something might be 
supposed to exist. In short, there are both positive and nega- 
tive inferences ; and either may follow from either positive or 
negative facts. "There is no fuel, and therefore no smoke;" 



Chap. XIX.] ILLATIVE EVIDENCE. 139 

** There is no food in the land, therefore there is disease and 
death," are examples of inference from non-existence. "The 
rock formation is granite, and does not contain coal," is an in- 
ference from existence to non-existence. The explanation of 
these forms of inference lies in the fact that there may be nega- 
tive as well as positive conditions of a necessity, and negative 
as well as positive consequents of a necessity. Such being the 
case, a complete statement of the law of inference should refer to 
other cases than that in which both antecedent and consequent 
are positive. The whole truth might be expressed in the propo- 
sition VciSiiinference always proceeds from a given fact, positive 
or negative, to another fact, positive or negative, necessarily 
connected with the given fact. 

3. A satisfactory understanding of the doctrine of 
state^.^'^The inference calls for the discussion of another point. 
Tuferences^^'^^^^ pertains to a difficulty connected with the logi- 
cal rule, " AflSrm the reason, and you affirm the con- 
sequent ; deny the consequent, and you deny the reason : but 
affirm the consequent, and you do not affirm the reason ; or deny 
the reason, and 3^ou do not deny the consequent." This rule, 
as it stands, applies only to such inferences as have positive 
antecedents and consequents, for we cannot properly be said to 
affirm a negative statement. Strictlj' speaking, it would be more 
correct to sa}^ "Assert the reason, and you assert the conse- 
quent ; deny (or contradict) the consequent, and you den}^ (or 
contradict) the reason : but assert the consequent, and you do 
not assert the reason ; and deny the reason, and you do not 
contradict the consequent." This rule may be illustrated from 
the example, "There is no fuel, and therefore no smoke." 
Plainl}'', if we assert that there is no fuel, we may assert that 
there is no smoke ; and if we deny that there is no smoke 
(saying there is smoke), we may den}' that there is no fuel 
(saying there is fuel) . But if we assert that there is no smoke, 
we cannot assert that there is np fuel, for there ma}' be fuel 
which is not smoking ; and for this same reason also, if we deny 
that there is no fuel (saying there is fuel), we cannot den}^ that 
there is no smoke (sa3ing there is smoke). In either case there 
may be fuel which does not produce smoke. In this example 
antecedent and consequent are both negative ; an inference with 
positive parts, such as "Caius is a man ; therefore he is mortal," 
would furnish simpler illustrations. 

The perplexity, however, to which we have referred, pertains 
not to the form, but to the origin and ground, of the rule which 
has now been stated. As regards the first half of the rule, the 
clause "Assert the reason and assert the consequent," is simply 



140 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XIX. 

the immediate practical application of the law of reason and 
consequent. We also easily approve the direction, " Deny the 
consequent and den}^ the reason," for the necessitating condition 
of anything cannot exist if the thing necessitated do not exist. 
To suppose the contrary would be to suppose a contradiction, — 
namely, a necessity for the existence of an entit}'' which does not 
exist. The difficult}^ therefore, is confined to the two clauses 
which make up the latter half of the rule ; for since the reason 
is the necessitating antecedent of the consequent, it may be 
asked. How can the consequent exist if the reason do not? and 
also, How can the reason be non-existent if the consequent be 
a fact? Can the thing conditioned exist while the conditions 
are (or have been) without existence ? Or can the conditions be 
non-existent while the thing conditioned may exist ? 

This is the difficulty. The explanation is to be 
expiainS^*^^ ^^^^"^ in a distinction between the true and exact 
Separable logical Conditions (or determinants) of the existence of 
rabi e'antJ' an entity and those conditions under some envelopment. 
cfondiUons "^ logical Condition is any fact considered exactl^^ or 
precisel}^ so far forth as it necessitates (or determines) 
the reality of another fact, and no farther. 

Such a condition and its consequent are inseparably connected 
with each other, so that if either exist, the other must exist; 
and if either be non-existent, the other must be non-existent. 
For example, among plane figures bounded by straight lines, 
we may reason thus as to a parallelogram : that if tmy figure 
have four sides and the opposite sides equal to each other, it 
must be a parallelogram ; and conversely, if it be a parallelo- 
gram, it must have four sides and the opposite sides equal to 
each other. So, also, if an}' figure do not have four sides and 
the opposite sides equal, it cannot be a parallelogram ; and if 
it be not a parallelogram, it cannot have four sides, and so 
forth. Or, to take another case, if a plane figure have four 
sides, and the opposite angles equal to each other, it is a paral- 
lelogram ; and if it be a parallelogram, it must have four sides 
and the opposite angles equal to each other. Also, if the figure 
do not have four sides and the opposite angles equal, it cannot 
be a parallelogram ; and if it be not a parallelogram, it cannot 
have four sides and the opposite angles equal. 

From these illustrations it is evident that the same fact may 
be a logical condition of several facts, and also that several facts 
may be logical conditions of the same one fact. For the exist- 
ence of a parallelogram has been given as the condition first of 
one consequent and then of another ; and each of these conse- 
quents^ in its turn, was used as the logical condition of the 



CuAP. XIX.] ILLATIVE EVIDENCE. 141 

existence of a parallelogram. It may also be noticed, in this 
connection, that there are conditions which are not logical, but 
causal, or constitutive, or concomitant. Straight sides are a 
constitutive condition of an ordinary parallelogram, and so is 
the equalit}^ of the opposite sides, and the number of the sides, 
four ; but all of these together are needed to compose a logical 
condition. For a figure either might have straight sides, or it 
might have the opposite sides equal to each other, or even both 
these things might be, and yet the figure need not be a parallelo- 
gram, but might be something else, say a regular hexagon. A 
logical condition alwa3^s is a fact which of itself necessitates or 
determines another fact. 

Now when an antecedent consists exclusively of a logical con- 
dition, or of more logical conditions than one, the inference is 
thoroughly convertible, — that is, either reason or consequent 
being asserted or contradicted, the other likewise maj^ be asserted 
or contradicted. We can not only say (according to the common 
rule), " It is day, and therefore the sun has risen," and "The 
sun has not risen, and therefore it is not day," but also, " It is 
not da3% and therefore the sun has not risen," and "The sun 
has risen, and therefore it is day ; " because in this case the 
"risen sun" is an exact and inseparable antecedent of " day," 
and "day," also, speaking logically', is an exact and inseparable 
antecedent of the "risen sun." Generally, however, a reason is 
not composed exclusively of a logical condition or of logical 
conditions, but consists of these in combination with other 
elements. Hence there may be as many reasons or antece- 
dents for a fact as there may be combinations of logical condi- 
tions with elements that are not such conditions. Hence, too, 
though one or more reasons for a consequent may not exist, 
other reasons may, and logical conditions in them ; and such 
being the case, it is plain that a consequent maj^ exist, though 
some particular antecedent do not ; and, conversely, that a par- 
ticular antecedent may be non-existent, while yet the consequent 
which would accompany it is a fact. 

We therefore distinguish between an exact and inseparable 
antecedent and a full or separable antecedent, the former being 
identical with a logical condition, or aggregate of such condi- 
tions, but the latter including more. 

Let us take the inference, " The man has inherited the farm ; 
therefore it is legally his." The antecedent here contains more 
than a logical condition ; for although it is a logical condition 
of ownership that one should have received a title in some wa}^, 
it is not necessary that this should be by inheritance. It might 
be by purchase or gift. But should we saj', "The man has 



142 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XX. 

obtained a good title, and therefore he is owner of the land," we 
would employ that exact antecedent which, with an accidental 
or non-essential envelopment, constitutes the fuller reason, — 
" inheritance." Commonl}', antecedents are full and separable; 
but sometimes, especially in mathematical reasonings, they are 
exact. 



CHAPTER XX. 

LOGICAL NECESSITY. 

1. Every mode or form of thought can be thoroughly under- 
stood only through an understanding of the objects with which 
it is conversant ; and since every inference is the thought that 
something is because there is something else with which it is 
necessarily connected, we ask, What is this necessity, and what 
are its more important relations? 

Necessity Necessity in general, like every other object of an 

defined. abstract nature, should be defined from an anal^'sis 
and comparison of the various modes in which it is manifested. 
Upon the accuracy of such a process the accuracy of our con- 
ception must depend. Merely referring in this way to the origin 
of the definition, we say that whenever au}^ fact is a fact, and 
no power can make it not to be a fact, it is necessar\^ ; and its 
necessity consists in its being a fact thus related to power. As 
a fact is always the existence or non-existence of something, 
every necessity pertains either to the existence or to the non- 
existence of something, and is positive or negative according to 
the character of the fact to which it belongs. When a thing ex- 
ists, and no power can make it not to be, it is necessarilj- exist- 
ent ; and when a thing does not exist, and no power can make 
it to be, it is necessarily non-existent. In each case the neces- 
sit}^ lies in this : that the fact, being a fact, cannot be made not 
to be a fact. 

A mistake We think, and incline to think, of things existent 
corrected, more than of those non-existent, and therefore think 
oftener of positive than of negative necessities. Hence it is a 
natural mistake to say that necessit}' belongs only to things ex- 
istent, and is the property of that which, being existent, cannot 
be made not to exist ; and, along with this, to define impossi- 
bility as the character of that which, being non-existent, cannot 
be made to exist. These conceptions are incorrect. An im- 
possibility is never a fact, either positive or negative, but al- 
waj's the reverse of fact. Aristotle rightly sa3's that existence 



Chap. XX.] LOGICAL NECESSITY. 143 

and non-existence (eti/at and fxr} dvai) are the proper subjects 
respecting whicli necessity is affirmed or denied, and that some 
things are necessary to be, and others necessary not to be. To 
illustrate negative necessity, we might say that there is a 
necessity arising from the nature of God that he should not be 
partial in his judgments ; and this statement should be distin- 
guished from the other, indissolubly connected with it, that it is 
impossible for God to be partial in his judgments. 
Positive and Positive and negative necessity differ only in the 
negative ne- Opposite character of the facts to which they belong, 
cessity. ^^^ ^^^ similar in their own nature and origin. That 
the sum of the three angles of a triangle should be equal to two 
right angles, and that it should not be greater or less, are things 
necessary in the same way. In each case, the triangle existing, 
there is a fact which no power can destroy ; and in each case the 
necessity arises from, or exists in connection with, the relations 
of quantity between angles formed by straight lines of different 
directions in the same plane. Since, therefore, a negative neces- 
sity is of the same nature, aad exists in the same way, as a 
positive necessity, we need only discuss the latter in order to 
understand both. This singleness of discussion is desirable for 
the sake of simplicity. 

Th ori<^in ^* "^^^^ origin of necessity, by which we mean the 
of necessity, principal Condition of its existence, is a relatedness of 
latiousl^^" ^^^t to fact. When one thing exists, and must exist, 
because some other thing exists, this evidently is so 
because the consequent fact has a peculiar relationship to the 
antecedent fact. More specifically, we may say that the neces- 
sity of any fact accompanies and depends upon some certain 
natural relation in which it exists to the necessitating fact, 
— that is, some certain relation which connects the facts as 
having given natures. Hence it is that, knowing the ante- 
cedent fact, we forthwith conceive of, and believe in, the con- 
sequent fact as existing in such a connection. The various 
relations which the mind refers to and uses in this way, when 
viewed with reference to this mental employment of them, may 
be styled the logical relations of fact, or of things as existing. 

The statement that the necessity of a fact originates from, 
or is caused or produced b}^ its relation to another fact, is not 
literal. It would be more correct to say that it originates with, 
depends upon, and accompanies the relatedness. The equality 
of three angles to two right angles is so related to their being 
the angles of the same triangle that the former fact necessarily 
exists in connection with the latter ; but this relation does not, 
properly speaking, produce, or originate, the necessity. The 



144 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XX. 

necessit}' that there should be fire where there is smoke accom- 
panies the relation of fire to smoke as the cause of smoke ; but 
this relation does not originate the logical necessity' (which 3'et 
depends on it) of the existence of the fire. Nevertheless, as the 
necessit}' depends on the relatedness and accompanies it, so that 
the necessit}' is perceived in connection with the relation, we 
sometimes express this b}' saying that the former arises from the 
latter, or is produced b}^ it. This language need not be con- 
demned, provided it signily no more than we have now indi- 
cated. In the statement that the consequent is so related to the 
antecedent that no power can make it not to be a fact, the words 
"so that" do indeed indicate dependence and sequence; but 
the dependence is not that of effect upon cause, hut simply of 
a thing conditioned on its condition; and the sequence is 
merel}' that of belief, and not of causation. A similar caution 
pertains to the significance of the logical terms " consequence" 
and " consequent ; " objectively speaking, the consequent is not 
that which follows from the antecedent, hut that v^hich in some 
way is necessarily connected xoith it. This is an example of 
those cases which frequently occur, in which a reference to our 
rational use of facts afiects our language respecting them, and 
tends to obscure our perception of them and their relations as 
they exist ^er se. 

Logical reia- ^^ liavc now further to sa}^ that the logical rela- 
tions are tious of a fact not only do not produce its necessity, 
necessaiyre-but are thcmsclves included in the same necessity 
latious. \;\\\:s. the fact ; in other words, it is not simply the fact 
alone, and because of its relationship, but it is the fact as re- 
lated, or with its relations, that is necessary. In an equilateral 
triangle the mutual equalit}' of the angles is not onl}^ a neces- 
sary fact, but it exists also as necessarily related to the equahtj^ 
of the sides. The geometrical relation of the consequent to the 
antecedent fact cannot but exist if the antecedent exist, and 
therefore it is a necessar\' or logical relation. So, also, an 
eff"ect is logicall}* related to its cause ; there is a nexus which 
cannot be destroyed. The consequent fact that " A is part of 
C " is united to the antecedent fact that " A is a part of a part 
of C " by a necessar}- relation of quantity ; for the part of a part 
must be a part of the whole. So, also, the consequent fact that 
a cause, being similar to another, will produce similar efi'ects, 
is related necessaril}^ to the antecedent that such or such a 
cause has produced such an eflfect, b}' reason of the nature of 
power. In each case there is an operation of power; and it 
belongs to the nature of power to act similai'ly under similar 
conditions. 



Chap. XX.] LOGICAL NECESSITY. 145 

The relations thus existing between a consequent and an an- 
tecedent are ver}' diverse ; but the relation alwa3's exists neces- 
saril}' if the antecedent exist. Considered by themselves, these 
relations ma}- be called the necessary relations of fact ; with 
reference to theiv fundamenta — that is, the objects between 
which they exist — they may be styled relations of connection. 
But bj' this connection we are to understand onl}' that necessary 
co-existence, or correalit}', of fact with fact, which accompanies 
the existence of the relation. 

As necessitv is a relatedness of fact to power, and 
absolute and as powcr exists in various forms, and has diverse 
relative. spheres of operation more or less extensive, it follows 
that a fact may be necessarj^ with reference to all power, or only 
with reference to some special form of power. Accordingly we 
distinguish between absolute and relative necessity. That is 
absolutely necessary which no power whatever can cause not to 
be. It is absolutel}' necessary that an isosceles triangle should 
have the angles at the base equal to one another, and that a 
parallelogram should have its opposite sides equal ; also that 
a murderer or a blasphemer should be subject to the penalty 
of moral law. No power could make these things otherwise. 
Again, the execution of an}' Divine purpose is absolutely neces- 
sary, because it is conditioned on infinite power, wisdom, and 
skill ; and these cannot be defeated. On the other hand, a debt 
of one thousand dollars is a necessary burden to a man who has 
no means and no friends ; not because such a debt is incapable 
of satisfaction, but because one of the conditions of the case is 
that the man is without the means of payment. In like manner 
a poor man must of necessity sometimes go coarsely clad, be- 
cause he has not the means of obtaining fine clothing ; whereas 
this necessity" does not exist as to the rich man. 

It is often useful, and sometimes indispensable, when the 
question is whether something be necessarily so or not, to ask 
whether the necessity be absolute or relative, and if relative, 
to determine what the power ma}' be whose sphere of exercise 
is limited by the necessity. A fact may be relatively, yet not 
absolutely, necessary ; and what is necessary in relation to one 
power may not be necessary in relation to another. 

Moreover, every case of relative necessity involves not only 
that a given power cannot alter the fact, but also that no power 
adequate to alter it is exercised.' For example, the debt would 
no longer be a necessary burden to the poor man if his rich 
neighbor paid it for him. This, therefore, though often under- 
stood rather than expressly noted, is always a condition of a 
relative necessity. 

10 



146 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XX. 

Hypothetical "^^ ^^ sometimes important to distinguish h3'potheti- 
andreai cal from real necessity. The former is not a kind 
necessity. ^^ necessity differing from the real ; it is an ideal 
object which does not exist at all, but is conceived of as existing 
with the same nature as if it were real. When the antecedent 
of a necessity is real, the necessit}^ is real ; but if the antecedent 
be raerel}' imaginary, the necessit}' is so too ; and in that case, 
with a reference to the supposition of its condition, it is called 
hj'pothetical. This language signifies that no necessity really 
exists, while yet the mind has conceptions corresponding to 
what the necessity and its conditions would be if they did exist. 
Such being the case, it is clear that, .to understand hypothetical 
necessity, we have only to understand that which is real. 
The term 3- -A.ny fact, which being real, another fact is ne- 

'' condition" ccssaril}' related to it, and necessarilj- exists as thus 
cidentai and related, is a logical antecedent of the other. We have 
CauTai^^^' ^^^^^ ^^^^ antecedents are either full and separable or 
constitutive, exact and inseparable ; the latter including only such 
LogkS^*^^^*' elements as are necessary conditions of the consequent 
conditions, fact, while the former contains elements additional to 
these. We defined a logical condition to be a fact considered 
precisel}' so far forth as it may support the necessitj^ of another 
fact, and no farther ; and showed how every antecedent con- 
tains at least one such condition, while ever}' exact antecedent 
excludes everything that is not a necessary- condition, and is 
always itself a logical condition. For any antecedent which, in 
addition to a logical condition, should contain onlj' such ele- 
ments as are necessar}- conditions of its consequent, would 
therein be a logical condition. 

As the word '' condition" is of constant occurrence in phi- 
losophy, and as an important truth is expressed in the phrase 
" logical condition," it may be advisable for us to dwell on the 
meaning of these terms. The term " condition" being derived 
from the Latin condere^ " to join," applies to what exists in inti- 
mate connection with something, — that is, to any of its circum- 
stances. This connection, so far as the nature of the thing 
conditioned is concerned, ma}" be either accidental or necessary. 
For example, a man's condition in life — that is, his " circum- 
stances " — is accidental in the sense that the man might exist 
under other circumstances. So, also, the condition of a farm of 
land — that is, its state of fertility — is accidental, because the 
farm might exist in a different condition. And, in a contract, the 
thing to be done is connected with the condition of its being 
done in a manner accidental so far as regards its own nature. 
But light is a necessary condition of vision, good food of health. 



Chap. XX.] LOGICAL NECESSITY. 147 

a plane surface of a square, a square side of a cube, and so on ; 
for these conditions are not only connected, but necessarily con- 
nected, with the thing conditioned, so that the}- must exist if it 
exist. 

Generally, in philosophy, when we speak of a condition, 
simpl}', we mean a condition of this sort, a necessary condi- 
tion. But there are various kinds of such conditions. For 
example, causal conditions are those elements which enter into 
and constitute the cause of any effect ; for, evidentl}^, if the 
effect exist, each of these elements must exist. Constitutive 
conditions are those which enter into a thing itself, as its parts 
or elements ; thus lines and angles are necessary parts of a 
triangle. Conco^nitant conditions are such as necessarily ac- 
company the existence of something without being causal or 
constitutive ; for instance, it is a condition of the existence of 
a right-angled triangle that the square of the hypothenuse should 
be equal to the sum of the squares of the two sides. So, also, 
the production of water is a concomitant condition of the melting 
of ice ; for it is a necessary effect of that cause, and there is a 
sense in which an effect accompanies its cause. 

jSTow a logical condition differs from those that are merely 
causal or constitutive or concomitant, in that an}' one of these 
ma}' exist while 3'et the thing conditioned may not exist, some 
other element being needed to necessitate its realit}' ; but ct logi- 
cal condition not only exists necessarily., or is given., icith the 
fact it conditio7is, but also necessitates the fact. It is a condi- 
tion as being given with the fact ; a logical condition as having 
the fact also given with it. The logical is the necessitating, or 
determining, condition ; and as such it might be named the logical 
necessitant, or determinant, of that which it conditions. 
Ever io<^icai Examination shows that every necessitant, or exact 
necessitant is antecedent, of a fact is either some necessary condi- 
from nece?- ^^^^^ ^^ ^^^^^ fact, or is composcd of such conditions, 
saiy condi- We express this truth b}' naming the exact antecedent 
^^^^^' a logical condition, and b}^ saying that every ordinary 

antecedent must contain a logical condition. Moreover, it is 
evident that only conditions, including logical conditions, can be 
consequents ; for a condition is simply that which is necessarily 
connected with the existence of something. This explains how 
every thoroughly convertible inference must have a logical con- 
dition for its antecedent. 

An ultimate Still wc may ask, Wh}' is every exact antecedent 
law of being, composcd of ncccssar}' conditions, and itself such a 
condition? Why is it a consequent of its own consequent? 
Or, in yet different language, Why is ever}' logical necessitant 



148 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XX. 

necessitated by that whicli it necessitates, so that if either exist 
the other must exist, and if either be non-existent the other 
must be non-existent too? This query is allied to another of 
less scope, namel}^ Why is the precise philosophical cause 
of any effect so connected with the effect that we can always 
infer cause from effect as well as effect from cause? Perhaps 
neither question admits of any answer save that which is simply 
an analj'sis of the truth presented for explanation. 

In regard to the necessarj' and mutual co-existence of cause and 
effect, we maj' say that power acts only under conditions, and 
that such is the nature of power, and of entity- in general, that 
the same results and the same conditions of the operation of 
power are mutually inseparable. Here, of course, by "same" 
we mean the precisely similar ; and among the conditions of the 
operation of power we include the special nature of any potency 
itself. All the elements of the foregoing answer seem included in 
our very conceptions of a cause, of an effect, and of the mutual 
connection between them. As to the more general truth of the 
necessar}' and mutual co-existence of the logical condition (or 
necessitant fact) and its consequent (or the fact necessitated), 
we may say, in like manner, that the limitations as well as the 
results of the operation of power depend upon conditions, and 
that the same limitation and the same conditions of limitation 
are inseparably connected. Therefore the same limitation of 
power so that it cannot make a fact non-existent (in being 
related to which limitation the fact is necessary), and the 
same set of conditions limiting the power (and necessitating 
the fact), are mutually inseparable. Here, again, we only pre- 
sent certain elements involved in the truth submitted to our 
inquiry. The principle is explained, but it is not accounted for 
by reference to any principle other than itself. That the logi- 
cally necessitating, as such, is also the logically necessitated, 
seems to be an ultimate law of being, — a part of the very 
structure of existence. 

Logical CO- ^- -^^ b^s heo^n frequently stated in the present dis- 
existeiice and cussion that logical necessity involves the co-existence, 
ixBoehsi a 1011. ^^ correality, of antecedent and consequent. We need 
scarcelj^ remark that the co-existence here spoken of is of the 
most general character^ and is not contemporaneous existence. 
Antecedents with reference to their consequents are sometimes 
past, sometimes present, and sometimes future ; and the con- 
verse is true as to consequents. So, also, when we say that the 
antecedent, or reason, necessitates the consequent, we do not 
mean at all to say that the antecedent contains the cause of the 
consequent and makes it to be, but only that the antecedent 



Ghap.xx.] logical necessity. 149 

contains the logical condition of the consequent ; in other words, 
that if the antecedent exist, the consequent also, as existing in 
some necessar}^ relation to it, cannot be made not to exist. 

For the most fruitful source of misconception on 
contrasted tWs subject is the confusion of logical with causal 
with logical necessity, when the latter includes more than the 
necessi y. fQj,jjjgj,^ ^ud should be regarded as a prominent and 
peculiar species of it. In every necessity there is a necessitating 
antecedent and a necessitated consequent ; and our use of lan- 
guage, together with a subjective reference to the sequence of 
thought, ftivors the idea that there is alwaj's power in the ante- 
cedent to produce the consequent. But such is not the case. 
The exercise of power belongs to those antecedents onh^ by 
which something is literally caused to be or not to be. I?i all 
others there is no power — that is, no exercise of power as oper- 
ative or as related to its effect — but only what may limit the 
operation of power. The fact that two quantities are each 
equal to a third contains no efficiency making them equal to 
one another, but it is a fact of such a nature that the mutual 
equality exists with it, and cannot be made not to exist. The 
fact that Paris is in France and that France is in Europe, is not 
the efficient cause of Paris being in Europe, but it is a fact with 
which the other fact necessarily co-exists. 

Causal necessity, on the contrary, takes place and exists 
whenever any beginning or change of existence is produced or 
prevented ; and the exercise of power is its principal condition. 
For when power sufficient for some result is exercised, and there 
is no adequate power of opposition, the result must follow. In- 
deed, when speaking of an event as necessary-, we naturall}^ and 
commonly think of it as causally necessar}', that is, as being 
made to exist hy some sufficient efficiency, and not simply as 
existing in circwnstances in which no power can make it not to 
exist. Thus the thing as necessary is seen to have these two 
relations to power; but, considered simply as logically neces- 
sary, the latter alone belongs to it. In this way the words 
"necessity" and "necessary" have an ambiguit}'. 

The difference between causal and merely logical necessity 
may be understood from this, that the former pertains to things 
only as the}* result from the exercise of power, and includes their 
relatedness to the efficiencj^ producing them, but the latter be- 
longs to things in various other relations beside that of an effect 
to its cause, and excludes, from its own proper nature, the pe- 
culiaritj' of this relationship. A cause in its relation to an effect 
is as logically necessary as an effect in its relation to its cause ; 
yet the effect has no efficiency to produce the cause. Therefore 



150 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XX. 

the logical necessifc}" of the effect does not include the fact that 
power causes it to be, but arises because of the fact that poioer 
causes it to be ; for, there being an adequate cause, the effect 
exists, and this cannot be otherwise. 

This difference between causal and logical necessity 
nolcemu' ^^ ^^^ grouud of the distinction between the ratio cog- 
and ratio noscendi, or order of perception, and tlie ratio essendi, 
or order of existence. The order of perception is the 
same as that of logical necessity, in which the consequent is said 
to follow the antecedent, — this meaning that its existence is con- 
nected with, and inferable from, that of the antecedent ; but the 
order of existence is that of causal necessit}^ in which an effect 
literal^ follows its cause. The one order sometimes coincides 
with the other, but more frequentl}^ it does not. We cannot 
too firmly fix it in onr minds that logical necessity', not causal, 
is the necessit}^ referred to in every act of reasoning ; and that 
when we sa}^ that a consequent exists because an antecedent 
exists, we do not mean to sa^^ that it is caused by the ante- 
cedent, but only that it necessarily exists as related to the ante- 
cedent. Inference depends upon conditions, not npon causes, — 
upon causes only so far as the^^ are conditions. 
The relation ^^ have now discusscd logical necessit}^ as the 
of logical external basis of inference. For in reasoning we 
fnference ex- perccivc a fact not immediatel}', but because of its 
actiy defined, j^gggggg^^y co-cxistcnce with somc known fact. The 
question, however, may now be asked, whether we do not, in 
the first place, simplj^ perceive the fact as connected with the 
other fact, and then, as confirmation of this cognition, perceive 
the necessity of the co-existence, —that the fact could not be 
otherwise. Such^ we believe^ is the case. That is, the percep- 
tion of the concomitant fact does not depend on the perception 
of its necessity, but rather the reverse is true. For the neces- 
sitj' originates from the nature and relations of the fact, and 
therefore presupposes the fact. But a belief thus formed, if in 
an}' wa3' questioned, is instantl}' confirmed b}" a perception of 
the necessity of the fact as related to the given fact ; and such 
inferential belief is formed only in cases lohere this necessity 
exists. Evidently the mind has a wonderful power of suggestion, 
whereby, independently of any consideration of necessity, it 
sees things unseen as co-existent with, and related to, things 
seen. But the unseen, while thus perceived, is always neces- 
sarily co-existent and related, and ijwlj be viewed also in this 
liglit. Logical relations are always necessar}' relations. AVe 
infer only such things as have some necessity of existence, either 
absolute or relative. If one should classif}^ the necessary rela- 



Chap. XXL] LOGICAL POSSIBILITY. 151 

tions of fact, he would classify also the various modes of infer- 
ence. The doctrine of necessity, and of things as necessarily 
related, cannot be separated from the doctrine of reasoning. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

LOGICAL POSSIBILITY. 

1. Logical possibility — that is, possibility in general, 
nition dil- considered as the basis of a certain mode of reasoning — 
cussed and has been thus defined in scholastic language: " Possibilitas 
amended. ^^^ consensio inter se, seu non-repugnantia, partium vel 
attributorum quibus res, seu ens, constituatur." This might be ren- 
dered: " Possibihty is the mutual harmony, or non-repugnance, of the 
parts, or attributes, which constitute any thing, or entity." 

To this statement it may be properly objected that the parts of a 
possible object must not only harmonize with each other, but that 
they, and the object as a whole, must also harmonize with other 
things, — that is, with the circumstances in which the object is sup- 
posed to exist. 

Let the problem be to construct a square with four straight lines of 
different lengths. We say, this is impossible, because a plane figure 
with four sides of different lengths cannot contain right angles. The 
parts of such a thing are conflictive with one another. There is no 
contradiction, however, in the idea of a square with four straight sides 
of equal length. The parts of such a figure are mutually compatible ; 
and, in general, it is clear that the parts of a thing possible must be 
compatible with one another. But it is also evident that the construc- 
tion of a square of a given area is possible only on a plane surface of suf- 
ficient dimensions; for example, a blackboard. It would be impossible 
to make such a figure on a spherical surface, or on a plane surface less 
than itself in area. This shows that the parts, or elements, of the 
object must harmonize, not only with each other, but also with the 
circumstances in which the object is perceived, or supposed, to exist. 

We may, indeed, justify the scholastic definition hy so enlarging our 
conception of the thing possible as to take in the given circumstances. We 
may make these, as it were, parts of the object. Thus "a square 
with a side of four inches on a board six inches by six" maybe 
regarded as one possible object ; and " a square with a side of eight 
inches on a board six by six" as one impossible object. But this 
comprehensive mode of conception is not one generally employed. 
Philosophers should adapt their language, when this is possible, to 
common modes of thought; and in the present case it would be better 
to say that possibility is the harmony of the parts of an object with 
each other and with given surroundings. 



152 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXI. 

But let us note, further, that, ordinarily^ the internal possihilitij of a 
thing is taken for granted; so that our inquiry, for the most part, concerns 
only external possibility. An animal is a thing internally possible, 
because its parts may co-exist; and it is externally possible where 
there are food and air and other necessaries. When we ask whether 
animal life is possible in some distant region of the universe or amid 
the surroundings of some past geologic age, our question evidently 
limits itself to the thought of the compatibility of animal life with 
certain external circumstances pertaining to food, air, climate, and so 
forth. Indeed, our common mode of thinking being directed almost 
exclusively to external consistencies, ordinary logical possibility might 
be defined simply as the compatibility of a thing with given surround- 
ings; in which definition, however, the presupposition is involved, 
that the parts, or attributes, of the thing are harmonious with each 
other. A very wide definition of possibility is that it is the compati- 
bility of one thing with another, or with others, with ichich it may be per- 
ceived, or supposed, to co-exist. This statement covers both external 
and internal possibility; for it implies both that the parts mutually 
harmonize, and that the object, as a whole, is compatible with given 
circumstances. 

The words " harmony " and " compatibility " ordinarily 
sibfiity is'au mean that two or more persons have such dispositions that 
existential they live together in peace and without hatred; or that 
biUtv^**" different notes of music are such that they do not make a 
disagreeable' but a pleasant sound; or that two trades or 
occupations are such that both may be profitably pursued at the same 
time by the same person. In such cases the compatibility of two or 
more things allows the existence of another thing, while their incom- 
patibility would prevent the existence of that other thing. According 
to this use of terms, incompatible things may exist together, but can- 
not be attended with peace or pleasure or profit. When, however, 
we- speak of logical compatibility or incompatibility, w^e mean simply 
that two things are such that they may exist together, the one with 
the other, or that they are such that they cannot exist together. 
Logical possibility, therefore, might be defined as the existential har- 
mony of one thing with others. Yet even this should be accepted as 
presenting rather an analogy than an analysis; for the relation of 
existential compatibility has something in it ultimate and sui generis. 
The thought of it is very simple, like that of existence or of non- 
existence ; and it is to be contrasted wdth the relation of logical con- 
fliction, or repugnance, very much in the same way that existence is 
to be contrasted with non-exisfcence. 

The raclical ^^^ most important question touching logical possibility 
law of infer- Concerns the mode in which the mind determines respecting 
^•'bTt" P^^ anything whether it be possible or not. This leads to the 
^^ ^^^' remark that the doctrine of possibility, like that of necessity, 

is intimately related to the doctrine of conditions, — that is, to the doc- 
trine of the necessary conditions of a thing. For here, to avoid coldfu- 
sion, we must distinguish two senses in which the term " condition " 
may be used in connection with the subject of possibility ; because if 
one should ask, Is such a thing possible under such and such condi- 



Chap. XXL] LOGICAL POSSIBILITY. 153 

tions? it is plain that he would not be speaking of the necessary 
conditions of the existence of a thing. It would be foolish to ask 
whether a thing is compatible with the necessary conditions of its 
existence. He would simply mean, Is the thing possible under such 
and such circumstances? In the present discussion let us employ 
the word "circumstances" for those given or supposed facts with 
which something may be affirmed or denied to be possibly co-existent. 
And let us confine the term "condition " to the necessary conditions 
of the existence of a thing. We have already seen that these condi- 
tions may be divided into three classes, — the constitutive, the causal, 
and the concomitant. 

Now it is self-evident that a thing can exist only where the neces- 
sary conditions of its existence can exist, — in other words, the com- 
patibility of a thing with given circumstances involves also the 
compatibility of its conditions with those circumstances. Therefore, 
when a thing is possible in its constitutive, causal, and concomitant 
conditions, it is possible in every respect; and the possibility of a thing 
may be determined by determining the possibility of its conditions. This 
radical principle is the most important in the philosophy of the 
possible. 

Very little examination will satisfy any one that inferences in possi- 
bility take place according to the law just mentioned. After it is 
settled that the thing in itself — that is, in its constitutive conditions 
— is possible, we naturally proceed to discuss whether its causal and 
concomitant conditions, severally, be compatible with the case or not. 
After it had been decided that a telegraphic wire twenty-five hundred 
miles in length could be made and operated, the further questions 
arose: Can it be insulated against the pressure of great weights of 
water? Can it be let down to the bottom of the ocean without twist- 
ing and breaking it ? Can machinery be devised for the construction 
of it, and vessels be procured for its conveyance ? And can the con- 
fidence of capitalists be obtained, so that the necessary expenses 
may be met ? The first Atlantic cable followed upon an affirmative 
answer to these questions. Evidently we infer the possibility of a 
thing from the possibility of its conditions. 

The postu- To some this statement may present a difficulty. It may 
latesofpos- be said: If the possible involve possible conditions, will 
sibihty. jjq|. t;}^gge involve yet other possible conditions, and these 

still others; and so will not an infinite regression be needed to estab- 
lish any possibility ? We reply that it would be needed were there 
not conditions whose possibility is self-evident. But an immediate per- 
ception of possibility takes place in several ways. 

In the first place, whatever actually exists in any given circum- 
stances, exists under every one of its necessary conditions, and is 
possible in every respect. Hence in those frequent cases in which 
a condition actually exists, there is no need of inquiry as to the 
possibility of that condition. 

In the second place, whatever has existed may, in similar circum- 
stances, exist again; and this principle enables us to determine the 
possibility of a condition which, though not know^n to be fact, is 
known exactly to resemble fact. For the thought of possibility per- 



154 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXl. 

tains to forms conceived of as existing, and not to real things as ffuch; 
and we may at once, and once for all, perceive a form to be possible. 

Finally, in other cases there is no regression, because the radical, 
or otitological, elements and conditions of things, — such as spaces, times, 
powers, substances, actions, and changes, — in the various relations 
according to which these condition one another, are immediately recognized 
by the mind as possible. Thus many radical conceptions of things pos- 
sible are formed. In the use of these conceptions, in which the possi- 
bility of the ontological character and conditions of a thing is asserted, 
other and less abstract possibilities are determined. We say it is 
possible for a bushel measure to contain a peck of potatoes. This 
is simply the concrete operation of the principle that what can contain 
the greater can contain the less. But this law of the possible in 
spacial measures, together with the possibility of its conditions, — 
such as space, substance, quantity, and the mutual relations of these 
things according to the terras of the law, — is immediately perceived 
by the mind. Such ultimate conceptions or judgments may be styled 
the fii'st principles, or postulates, of possibility. Like our conceptions 
of fundamental necessities, they seem to be originally formed by the 
mind during its perception of facts. 

The foregoing remarks show how the statement is to be taken that 
the possibility of a thing must be inferred from that of its conditions. 
Of course, when possibility is self-evident, it need nob be perceived 
inferentially, in a large number of cases it may be immediately per- 
ceived, and therefore need not be proved. 

2. Such are the essential points in the doctrine of logical possibility. 
But an exact understanding of this doctrine calls for some supplemen- 
tary statements. 

First, let us note that although the conception of possi- 
'iion of m)ssi- ^il^^J involves the conception of existence, the assertion of 
bility does possibility does not, of itself, involve the assertion either of 
not involve existence or of non-existence. A thing Is possible in that 
exLtence ^ i^ ^^ possible to be, or as to its existence. Therefore, to 
determine the question of possibility, we have first to con- 
ceive of a thing as existing, and then to ask w^hether its existence is 
compatible w^ith the given circumstances. But while we must con- 
ceive or imagine the thing in question to exist, we do not assert either 
that it is or that it is not. The assertion of possibility, in itself, only 
states that if a certain thing should exist it w^ould harmonize with 
given circumstances ; it does not say whether the thing exists or not. 

Frequently, indeed, we ask whether a thing not now existing may 
be realized in the future, or may have been realized in the past; and 
then, combining the idea of non-existence idth that of possibility, ice mean 
by the possible the merely possible, the non-existent possible. This limita- 
tion of thought is implied, also, when we contrast the possible with 
the actual, — when, for example, we speak of all things actual and of 
all things possible. In such cases thei-e is an addition made to the 
simple idea of possibility of something which is non-essential to that 
idea; for we can also say that a thing is not only possible but act- 
ual, and that it is possible because it is actual. The transmission of 
thought through the depths of the ocean is possible because it is a. 



Chap. XXL] LOGICAL POSSIBILITY. 155 

thing in actual operation. We can even say, in one very literal sense, 
that nothing is possible but \Yhat is actual; for only that which actually 
exists, can exist in actual compatibility with other things. The possibility 
of a thing which does not exist, and which is only conceived to exist, 
is only a conceived-of possibility. 

We think very frequently of this merely ideal possibility, and much 
moi-e frequently of it than we do of that actual possibility which 
the ideal would become if the object really existed. In this way we 
come to suppose that the assertion of possibility necessarily involves 
the non-existence of the thing possible. But that assertion, consid- 
ered purely and in itself, does not involve a belief either in the ex- 
istence or in the non-existence of its subject. That it does not, is 
evident, because the conviction of possibility is often cherished with 
the hope that it may add to itself the perception of fact. Those who 
went lately in search of the Arctic explorers did so in the hope, '• They 
may be yet alive." 

Real and by- I^^ connection with the statement that possibility may 
potheticai be either actual or ideal, — the possibility of a fact or 
possibility. |.j-jg possibility of a thing supposed, — we must mark a 
very peculiar distinction of possibility into the real and the hypotheti- 
cal. One might suppose real and hypothetical possibility to be the 
same as the actual and the ideal possibility just mentioned. The 
words naturally bear this signification; but in point of fact they are 
used in another sense. A thing is called really possible when any of 
its conditions are real and known to exist, even though the thing 
itself does not exist; and it is hypothetically possible when any of its 
conditions, being either non-existent or not known to exist, are yet 
supposed to be. 

These modes of posslhility are consistent both with each other and loith 
actual impossibility. Had a man plenty of money to buy a farm, which 
the owner nevertheless could not be induced to sell at any price, the 
purchase would be really possible so far as regards money, and hy- 
pothetically possible so far as regards the consent of the owner, yet, 
on the whole, actually impossible. We do not commonly, however, 
while asserting real possibility, know that the object under considera- 
tion is, on the whole, impossible; nor do we always understand that the 
condition supposed in hypothetical possibility is non-existent : we fre- 
quently do know that it does not exist, but sometimes only do not 
know whether it exists or not. If the searchers for the Arctic explorers 
did not know, or have good reason to believe, that the explorers had 
food sufficient to support them for a given time, the hope of finding 
them alive would be supported by a possibility only abstract and hypo- 
thetical ; yet this possibility of a sufficiency of food would consist with 
the fact of a sufficiency. 

Partial and Again, pliilosophy requires that we should discriminate 
perfected between partial and perfected possibility. A thing may be 
possibility. Ijnown or supposed to be possible with reference to all the 
necessary conditions of its existence or with reference to some only; 
in this latter case it may be said to be partially, and in the former to be 
perfectly, possible. Partial possibility consists with either necessity or 
impossibility; but perfected possibility involves necessity, and excludes 



156 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXI. 

impossibility. For example, if a person had ability, opportunity, prep- 
aration, and sufficient inducement to make a speech, — in short, all 
the conditions of this effect, — the speech would be both possible and 
necessary. But if only one or two conditions were known or supposed 
to exist, and it were left unsettled whether or not the others existed or 
could exist, then the speech would be possible so far as concerned the 
known or posited conditions, but, on the whole, it might be either 
necessary or impossible. So far as a thing is possible, it is compatible 
with other things ; so far as it is necessary, it is inseparably coherent 
with other things. These are different, though they are intimately 
allied relations. 

Loo-ical (lis- Another needful distinction is that between possibility 
tinguished in general, or logical possibility (or compossibility, as Chil- 
from causal Hngworth named it), and causal possibility. This is exactly 
possi 1 1 y. pg^i-aiiel to the distinction, already discussed, between causal 
and logical necessity. A thing is causally possible when any of its 
causal conditions does or may exist. Power, adequate in nature and 
degree to the production of the object, is the most important of these 
conditions, AV'hen we find that an adequate power exists, we say that 
the thing is possible so far as that condition is concerned. Then we 
inquire concerning other conditions, and from their existence or non- 
existence determine the question as to the remaining elements of a 
complete possibility. If there were a tailor, we would know that a 
coat was possible so far as regards productive skill. We might then 
ask, Ts it possible as regards material ? Where are the cloth, lining, 
thread, buttons, and so forth ? Next, Is it possible as to instru- 
ments ? Has the man a w^orkshop, needles, scissors, and other imple- 
ments? Finally, Is it possible as to sufficient inducement? Have 
you the money to pay the tailor for the coat? Thus one might suc- 
cessively consider the different causal conditions of a coat, so far as 
there M^as any question concerning each ; and he would naturally do so 
in the order of their practical importance. 

On the other hand, a thing is logically possible when any ofils neces- 
sary conditions exist, whether they he causal conditions or not. A man 
ignorant of the details of Japanese geography might say, "Yokohama 
and Yeddo may be twenty, or they may be one hundred, miles apart, for 
all that I know: " because either of these supposed things would be 
compatible with the fact that both cities are in Japan ; either of them 
would be possible with reference simply to space relations. 

Only effects are causally possible ; causes, as such, are possible logically, 
not causally. God is neither causally possible nor causally necessary, — 
he never could have been produced, — but he is logically possible and 
logically necessary. His existence is both compatible with that of 
the universe, and necessary as that of the cause of the universe, — - a 
cause that must have existed. The reasonings of pure mathematics 
refer to logical but not to causal possibility and necessity. The 
thoughts of daily life and of scientific experiment are chiefly con- 
cerned with causal. These thoughts, too, greatly influence our ordi- 
nary use of language. Hence the possible often signifies that which 
can be produced or brought about; indeed, originally the possible may 
have been the practicable or the makable. But possibility in general 



Chap. XXL] LOGICAL POSSIBILITY. 157 

is simply the existential compatibility of a thing, and its conditions, 
•with given circumstances, and is not at all confined to the compatibility 
of the production of a thing with given circumstances. 
Reasoiiin«r in 3. We are now prepared to understand how the mind, in its 
possibility is pursuit of the cognition of fact, — which alone is true and 
to^reason^no- complete cognition, — forms and uses its knowledge of the 
in necessity! possible. One is often unable to determine directly, from 
Five steps, ^ig knowledge of the circumstances of a case, what the 
truth may be respecting some point of inquiry, — that is, he is unable 
to discover any real antecedent which, as involving a logical condition, 
necessitates the reality of some object conceived of. Such antecedents 
may exist, but he knows not where to seek for them, or, at least, has 
not been able to find any. In these circumstances the direct search 
for truth is abandoned, and the inquiry. Is the thing supposed pos- 
sible ? takes the place of the question. Is it necessary V 

This inquiry as to possibility may be prosecuted in various ways; 
but when fully developed it is twofold, referring, first, to hypothetical, 
and then to real, possibility. 

For first, if need be, we ask as to the abstract possihility of the 
thing, — that is, its possibility without reference either to any specific 
circumstances or to the actual existence or non-existence of any con- 
ditions. This inquiry is to determine the ideal compossibility of the 
conditions, internal and external, of the object with each otiier, and 
with the necessary elements and laws of being. If any conditions be 
found incompatible with each other, or with any radical law of exist- 
ence, there is no need of further inquirij. No matter what existing 
circumstances may be, the thing is impossible, and does not exist. 

But if the abstract supposition do not thus involve contradiction and 
absurdity, our next inquiry might concern the hypothetical possibility of 
the thing under the given circumstances. In other words, we might ask 
whether the necessary conditions of the thing be possible and sup- 
posable in the case presented. Here, also, if any condition should 
appear thus impossible, our quest for truth would terminate. 

Otherwise we should inmiediately pass to the second leading inquiry 
concerning possibility, and should ask, Is the thing really possible? Do 
its conditions really exist ? For we assume that an attentive study of 
the thing under consideration has brought distinctly to view its neces- 
sary parts and other conditions. Suppose now we find that some con- 
dition of the thing does not exist, is not contained in the given 
circumstances. This being the case, the thing is really impossible; 
for a thing cannot exist so long as any one of its conditions is non- 
existent. Thus, again, the possible has been our guide to the real; it 
has led again to the really non-existent. 

But suppose, further, that every condition concerning tchich toe can in- 
quire is found to be a reality. We now say that, so far as we can see, 
the thing is really possible, and cannot be denied to exist; we can in- 
ferentially deny only the impossible. In this case reasoning in pos- 
sibility enables one to reject any unfounded disbelief, — that is, any 
unfounded belief in the non-existence of the object, — and prepares 
the mind for the proper consideration of evidence. 

Moreover, logical conditions, or exact antecedents, being composed 



158 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXL 

of necessary conditions, inquiry after the latter puts us better in the 
way of meeting with the former, or with reasons containing them ; 
and thus, searching within and over the field of necessary conditions, 
we are in the way of finding conclusive antecedents, if such are dis- 
coverable. 

Finally, therefore, suppose that certain conditions are found to be 
real, which, taken together, can belong to but one object, and that the 
object whose reality is in question. The inference of possibility is now 
replaced by the inference of fad ; our inquiry terminates in the asser- 
tion of positive reality. Thus, in several ways and degrees, reasoning 
in possibility subserves reasoning in necessity. 

The ordinary inference of the possible is concerned^ ahnost exclusively^ 
with real possibility and real conditions. The abstract possibility of a 
thing is generally known before the commencement of inquiry; and 
that hypothetical possibility which is limited by the given circum- 
stances serves only to direct our search after real conditions. Those 
who set out to rescue the Arctic explorers had no doubt that men 
could exist anywhere under certain conditions ; nor had they any 
difficulty in imagining that their long-absent countrymen might still 
live under those conditions, even in the most frozen and inhospitable 
latitudes. But their hopes and their search were based on the belief 
that some of those conditions were, or had been, actual, and that oth- 
ers might be found to exist. They knew that the expedition had been 
sent out in strong and well-equipped vessels, with abundant provision 
of clothing, food, and fuel, and with the means of obtaining such sup- 
plies as those hyperborean regions afforded. These facts were the 
basis of a real possibility. Still the questions were unsettled whether 
the ships had proved of sufficient strength, whether provisions had not 
been exhausted, and whether the adventurers had succeeded in pro- 
curing additional supplies. Let us suppose, now, that the rescuing 
party, in their progress, should obtain, from natives or from deposited 
records, evidence as to one and another of these doubtful points. 
Plainly their hope would be confirmed, — the possibility of timely re- 
lief would become more real; it would be based on a greater number 
of real conditions. Finally, should they ascertain that the explorers 
had been lately seen, and that they had the necessary means of living 
for a certain time, they would press forward in the full confidence of 
finding them. 

Inference of '^- "^^^ explanations above given describe only the infer- 
tile possible ence of that which we ordinarily mean by the possible. Cora- 
nottobe. monly the possible means the possible to be, just as the 
impossible commonly signifies the impossible to be. Sometimes, how- 
ever, we speak of the possible not to be, of that whose non-existence 
is or would be compatible with given circumstances; and our reason- 
ing concerning this possible has a law of its own, A thing is inferred 
as possible to be when its conditions, so far as considered, exist or are 
possible; but it is inferred as possible not to be when its conditions, 
so far as found existent or possible, do not constitute a logical condition. 
This is the law of the possibility not to be, real and hypothetical. 

We see, therefore, how reasoning in possibility (whether positive 
or negative possibility) is closely related to reasoning in necessity 

I 



Chap. XXII.] CONTINGENCY AND PROBABILITY. 159 

(whether positive or negative). Both modes of inference are based 
on the radical principle that all things exist as conditioned. Both arise 
from the consideration of things as conditioned; both even liave a 
reference to logical conditions. The necessary to be is inferred directly 
from tlie existence of such a condition. The impossible, or necessary 
not to be, is inferred from the non-existence of one or more of those 
necessary conditions out of which every logical condition is consti- 
tuted. The possible to be is inferred from the existence of necessary 
conditions when we can at the same time suppose the existence of a 
logical condition containing them. And the possible not to be is in- 
ferred from the existence of necessary conditions when we can suppose 
the non-existence of the logical condition of which they would be parts. 
These remarks show how the possible to be leads towards the neces- 
sary, and how the possible not to be leads towards the impossible. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

CONTINGENCY AND PROBABILITY. 

Intermedi- 1- The only definition of possibility which seems to 
ate possibil- cover every case is that which makes it the existential 
ity defined, compatibility of one thing with others. When the exist- 
ence of a thing, so far as relates to any of its necessary conditions, is 
compatible with given circumstances, we have the possible to be; and 
when its non-existence, notwithstanding the existence of some condi- 
tions, is compatible with given circumstances, w-e have the possible 
not to be. When all the necessary conditions of a thing exist, it is 
both perfectly possible to be and necessary to be; and when any of 
these conditions do not exist, it is both perfectly possible not to be 
and impossible to be. But when some of the conditions exist, and we 
have no reason to believe the others existent or to believe them non- 
existent, we say that the thing is possible either to he or not to he. This, 
too, is the possibility most frequently considered. 

When possibility has this double character it may be called inter- 
mediate, as lying between those possibilities, positive and negative, 
which belong to facts, and which consist with necessity and impossi- 
bility. This intermediate possibility is of the same nature with that 
already described as partial, excepting only that it has a doubleness, 
and looks in two directions. 

The above statements, for the sake of simplicity, directly refer otaly 
to real possibility, in which conditions are not merely supposed, but as- 
serted to exist. Similar statements might be made in regard to hypo- 
thetical possibility; which, however, we need not specifically discuss. 

Intermediate possibility is th.e primary basis or ground 

detinecL^"^^ for judgments of probability; and when it is thought of as 

such, it is styled contingency. For it could not be probable 

that there-will be frost in Clinton on the 4th of March, were it not 

possible both that there should be and that there should not be frost 



160 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXII. 

in Clinton on that day. Contingency, therefore, is an interme- 
diate possibility, for it belongs to that which both may be and may 
not be. 

Yet contingency, as we commonly think of it, does not include all 
possibility of this kind, but only such as may be used as a basis for a 
judgment of probability. For a thing contingent, although not therein 
also probable, yet is possible in such a mode as to render the inquiry 
reasonable whether it be probable or not. Contingency, as having this 
suggestive force, might be called a strong possibility. 

Were a beautiful poem published anonymously, search would not be 
made among men in general for its author, but only among a certain 
class of men; and although, in an extreme and abstract sense, one 
might say that it is contingent to a man to write poetry, yet, for the 
purposes of inquiry, we would limit this contingency to persons poeti- 
cally gifted. In this way two forms of possibility may be distin- 
guished, both of which might indeed be termed contingency, but the 
latter of which specially deserves the name. 

The antece- The origin of this distinction is to be found in the 
dentof pos- diverse character of the conditions on which the possibili- 
be^stron™or *^^^ depend. AVe have seen that a thing is possible with 
weak. The reference to any necessary condition of its existence when 
former is the that condition exists; therefore such a condition, as exist- 
of conUn^^ ing, may be termed an antecedent of possibility. But of 
gency. such antecedents there are two kinds, — one weak, and the 

other strong. These arise, respectively, according as the antecedent of 
possibility does or does not approximate to an antecedent of necessity, 
or rather to that logical condition which every antecedent of neces- 
sity involves. 

We have seen that every logical condition is composed of necessary 
conditions. It is also clear that any condition which is complex is also 
composed of such conditions ; for any condition in all its parts is neces- 
sary to that which it conditions. Now a condition which, though falling 
short of a logical condition, so resembles some such condition already 
known to us as immediately to suggest it to our minds, may be called 
a strong condition, because, in the absence of any conclusive informa- 
tion, it suggests the thought, " The whole logical condition may exist, 
and the consequent therefore may be a fact." But a condition 
which does not thus resemble a logical condition may be called weak ; 
for it suggests no necessitating condition, and affords no basis or 
starting-point for search. 

If a criminal escaped from justice, it would not excite inquiry on the 
part of the proper officers to be told that there was a man in such or 
such a place. Although this would be a necessary condition of the 
location of any criminal, the possibility resting on it would not sug- 
gest any logical necessitant. But if they should learn that a person 
resembling the criminal somewhat had made his appearance in a cer- 
tain city just after the time of the escape, they would say, " Possibly 
he is the man." In this case there would be something more than 
abstract theoretical possibility; there would be a strong practical pos- 
sibility, a contingency, attaching itself to the man heard from, 
that he may be the criminal in question. The mere existence of a 



Chap. XXII.] CONTINGENCY AND PROBABILITY. 161 

man somewhere is the antecedent of possibility ; that of the man re- 
sembling the criminal is the antecedent of contingency. The latter, 
by the addition of only a few particulars, may become a logical neces- 
sitant; and the thought of such particulars is immediately suggested 
to the mind. 

At the same time the antecedent of contingency does not of itself 
establish a probability, but only a strong or suggestive possibility, — 
a mere indeterminate chance. The question whether the chances for 
the supposition be one in ten or one in ten thousand, or whether they 
can be found to have any definite ratio to the chances against the 
supposition, is to be resolved by further considerations. 

2. This indeterminate judgment of contingency, however, 
kuJgment passes into a judgment of probability when the antecedent 
originates in of contingency does not merely suggest the idea of a con- 
two ways. sequent as possible to be or not to be, but is also followed 
by an expectation, of greater or less strength, that a thing really is or 
is not; and this result may arise in one or other of two ways. Some- 
times we immediately perceive the likelihood of a thing without using 
the conception of the chances, or individual possibilities, for and against 
the supposition ; while at other times we employ the ratio of the chances 
as the basis of our judgment. Probability, when ascertained by the 
latter of these methods, might be called reasoned ; and when determined 
by the former, unreasoned. Both probabilities, indeed, are asserted 
properly and in accordance with reason; but the unreasoned mode 
does not require that degree of mental strength and penetration which 
the estimation of chances does, and may be within the apprehension of 
the higher order of brutes. 

So long as the officers knew only that a man resembled the escaped 
criminal in some general way, — for example, in being six feet high 
and having black hair, — this would not be a ground for expectation, 
but only for inquiry. Many men might answer that description. 
But if additional information came that the person heard from was 
like the criminal in having lost an eye or in being pock-marked, or 
in both particulars, they would say, " He is probably the man." And 
their reason for so judging would not be that in a large majority of 
previous cases such an aggregate of marks had led to the right man, 
and that they could therefore consciously refer to a rule of probability, 
but simply that they found it easy to suppose that the marks reported would 
be so supplemented by others as to furnish a logical condition, or positive 
proof of the correctness of their conjecture. Because we often expect 
things in this way when we perceive a strong resemblance between 
some given antecedent of contingency and a conceived-of antecedent 
of necessity, probability is frequently called likelihood. 

In unreasoned probability, from the consideration of one real or 
given antecedent of contingency, we may either assert only one conse- 
quent as probable, and its contradictory as improbable, or we may 
assert several alternatives of different degrees of probability. For 
example, a man looking at the clouds might say it is probable that 
there will be a shower within fifteen minutes, and improbable that 
there will not be one; or he might judge that either rain or snow or 
sleet will fall within that time, and assign different degrees of likeli- 



162 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXIL 

hood to each supposition. But in reasoned probability, in addition to 
the above, we consider the chances which support the contradictories 
or the alternatives. Therefore, to understand the reasoned mode of 
probable judgment, we must define clearly what we mean by chances. 
The chauces The name " chance " is sometimes given to those causes, 
defined. taken collectively, which are of uncertain operation ; and 

coSeqients ^° "^'^ ^^^ *^^^^' ^^^^ ^"^ ^"^^ ^^ event has happened by 
of equal chance. But the term has a different meaning when we 
probability, discuss the doctrine of probability. In this connection a 
chance may be defined as any one out of the total number of indi- 
vidual events which can be supposed to follow the same antecedent of 
contingency, when, as a matter of fact, one, and only one, of these 
events must follow that antecedent when fully realized; for the antece- 
dent of contingency may be variously completed into an antecedent of 
necessity, and may therefore, in supposition, have as many different 
consequents as there are ways of completion, — in which respect it 
differs from an antecedent of necessity, which can have only one 
consequent. 

Let one hundred marbles be put into a bag, — ten black, twenty red, 
and seventy white. What will be the probability that if a ball be drawn 
out by a blinjifolded boy, it will turn out a red one ? Here the ante- 
cedent of contingency is the action of the boy in drawing out a marble, 
which we assume as certain to take place. There are now one hun- 
dred chances, or supposable individual events, each of which might 
follow upon the drawing; for this action may be completed by the 
seizure of any one of one hundred different marbles. But only one of 
these seizures can be actual; for only one marble is to be drawn 
out. 

Now, as we have no means of knowing which of the marbles the 
boy's hand may grasp, we cannot tell which of the hundred events 
will take place. Therefore we distribute our confidence among them all^ 
and say that they are all equally likely. And as a red marble would ap- 
pear if any one of the twenty were seized, we say that twenty chances 
agree with and support the supposition that a red marble will be 
drawn out. The chances for a red marble are twenty in one hundred, 
or in the ratio of one to five. In this case the antecedent of contin- 
gency — that is, the grasping of a marble — is conceived or supposed to 
take place, and to be completed into an antecedent of necessity in one 
hundred cases, — that is, by the seizure of each individual ball; but 
only one of these modes of completion can prove to be real; and its 
reality, when ascertained, excludes the possibility of all the rest. 

. In the above case one might speak of only three chances, 

duality and — those, namely, in which, respectively, a black, a white, 
the equality and a red marble is supposed to appear; or he might call 
chances tl^^se general chances, and say that there are also one hun- 
dred individual chances. But this use of language might 
introduce confusion; therefore let us apply the term " chance "only 
to individual possibilities. 

These are called individual in order to indicate our mode of conceiv- 
ing them in their relation to the general suppositions. Their indi- 
viduality of course is, like themselves, wholly ideal or imaginary. It 



Chap. XXII.] CONTINGENCY AND PROBABILITY. 163 

is that numerical difference which the mind attaches to any objects 
which can even be supposed to be real; for only individuals can exist, 
and can rationally be imagined to exist. 

It may be said, however, that the alternatives which the chances 
support are also supposed to exist, as the possible consequents of the 
antecedent, and that therefore they also must be individuals. This is 
true ; and for this reason we say that their generality is not that proper 
generality which belongs to the general notion, but only that which may 
belong to any individual as having some ^'- general ^' character, — that 
is, as corresponding to some general notion. When, with different de- 
grees of confidence, we expect a black or a white or a red marble, or 
that it will rain or snow or sleet within the next half-hour, we expect 
individual events ; but each has a general character in respect to which 
it may agree with a number of more specific suppositions; and because 
of this circumstance, these last are individuals, or individualizations, 
in a peculiar and double sense. 

This peculiar individuality of the chances belongs to them by reason 
of their essential nature as the units of measure in probability. The 
chances are conceivable only lohen a case presents a number of possible con- 
sequents, one of which must be true, and no one of which is more likely to 
be true than any other. When we can conceive of such consequents, 
we individualize no further, but determine the probability of each 
general alternative by comparing the number of chances which favor 
it with the whole number of chances. From this it will be seen that 
the individuality of the chances, in any case, is very closely connected 
with their equality, and indeed is of no importance except as an 
exponent of this equality. 

3. We have now discussed the essential principles of prob- 
and"/nl[uc- ^^^^ judgment. But this doctrine may be elucidated should 
tive proba- we consider one or two additional points. First, let us 
guished.^*^^"" distinguish intuitive and inductive probability. Some- 
times the chances in a case may be ascertained without 
any reference to a previous experience, and simply from the inspec- 
tion of the individual case. Such a judgment occurs in games of 
chance. In the fifty-two cards in a pack, twelve are pictured, twenty- 
six are red, and twenty-six are black. Here we can say immediately 
that there are twenty-six chances out of the fifty-two that a card drawn 
out of the pack at random will be red; twelve out of fifty-two that a 
pictured card will be drawn; and one in fifty-two that the queen of 
hearts or of spades, or any other particular card, will be drawn. 
Such is intuitive probability. 

Inductive probability, on the other hand, is perceived when we are 
judging of the more or less irregular operation of natural causes. Let 
the question be whether it will freeze in Clinton on next New Year's, 
Jan. 1, 1886? Let It be assumed that we know, from long experience, 
that in this latitude certain causes operate in the long run to produce 
frost seventy-five times out of one hundred, or three times out of four, 
on the 1st of January. We now conceive of four antecedents of ne- 
cessity as the total number of the possible individual modifications of 
the antecedent of contingency, and of four possible corresponding 
chances, or individual consequents. According to three of these, it will 



164 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXII. 

be frosty; according to one, it will be mild. The chances for frost are 
three out of four, or three to one. 

Inductive probability may be distinguished from intuitive, because 
the former always requires the formation of a rule and arises from the 
application of that rule; but intuitive probability may be perceived 
without any rule. Should Mr. Orr be irregularly absent from his 
house three days out of ten, the probability of finding him at home 
any particular day would be seven tenths. This would be intuitive 
were it based on direct information that a certain business would 
necessarily take him away three days, and keep him at home seven, 
out of the coming ten; but if it arose simply from familiar acquaint- 
ance with Mr. Orr's habits of life, it would be inductive. 
^ Again, let us note that there are two modes of estimating 

philosophical probability, and two applications of the term "probable," — 
probability the popular and the philosophical. These conceptions may 
ff'^"shed ^® explained in connection with the symbol of a straight 
line of given length somewhat minutely divided into equal 
parts. Let one end of the line — say that at the left hand — represent 
the point of absolute disbelief in some statement, and let the other end 
stand for the point of absolute or certain belief in this statement. The 
first of these points, of course, will also be that of absolute belief 
in the contradictory of the statement, and the other that of absolute 
disbelief in this contradictory. Let us suppose the line to be di- 
vided into one hundred equal parts. Should we now perceive that 
there is just one chance in one hundred for the truth of the statement, 
and ninety-nine against it, the point indicating our degree of confi- 
dence would be one grade from the left-hand, or negative, end of the 
line; but if there were ninety-nine chances for the truth of the state- 
ment and only one against it, the point would be within one grade of 
the right-hand, or positive, end. The central point of the line would 
indicate that degree of belief or confidence entertained when the 
chances in favor of the statement are fifty out of one hundred, — that 
is, when the chances are fifty for, and fifty against, the statement. 
This is the point of absolute doubt or uncertainty. 

Now at this point, in accordance with two different modes of 
thought, we may say either that there is or that there is not proba- 
bility. Philosophically, there is a probability of fifty in a hundred, or 
of one in two, because, in the icide scientific sense, we say a thing is prob- 
able so far as it has any chances at all in its favor, and improbable so far 
as it has any chances at all against it. According to this, everything 
probable has some degree of improbability, and everything improbable 
has some degree of probability. But according to ordinary language, 
an event which has only fifty chances in one hundred in its favor has 
no probability at all. Commonly, that only is said to be probable ickich Jias 
a majority of the chances in its favor, and that only is improbable ichich 
has a majority of the chances against it. According to this, the probable 
is never the improbable, nor the improbable the probable. 

In the wide, or philosophical, sense absolute doubt has just half the 
confidence of certainty; our expectation is equally divided between 
two consequents, one or other of which must certainly exist But ac- 
cording to the common use of terms, doubt is the starting-point from 



Chap. XXIL] CONTINGENCY AND PROBABILITY. 166 

which a belief, whether positive or negative, commences a progress to 
a certainty which is correspondingly positive or negative. 

Philosophically, twenty-five chances in one hundred give one fourth 
the confidence of certainty; fifty chances, one half; and seventy-five, 
three fourths ; and these fractions symbolize these degrees of belief. 
But, in ordinary language, twenty-five chances in one hundred give 
half the confidence of negative certainty or of utter disbelief, and 
seventy-five chances half that of positive certainty; and the fractions 
one fourth and three fourths would symbolize a disbelief and a belief, 
each of which had half the confidence of certainty. Philosophically, 
the addition of one chance in the hundred would add one hundredth 
part of the confidence of certainty to the strength of our belief ; ac- 
cording to the ordinary mode of thought, that addition would, as th'fe 
case might be, either detract one fiftieth part of the confidence of cer- 
tainty from the strength of disbelief, or add one fiftieth part of that 
confidence to the strength of belief. Our common conception of proba- 
bility is more complex than that which we have termed philosophical; 
but it is necessitated by the practical question which continually pre- 
sents itself, whether or not some statement has the majority of the 
chances in its favor. 

4. When probable judgments are combined, interesting questions arise 
concerning what is called "the calculation of chances." Such ques- 
tions belong to logic rather than to the general philosophy of mind. 

We shall now add only one other remark respecting the 
probawitty^ nature of probability. It is that probable belief so differ^ 
cam-each from knowledge, or absolute certainty, that the latter can 
certainty never be derived or developed from the former. For the 
ground of probability, though closely related to that of cer- 
titude, is distinguished by a radical peculiarity. Probability, like pos- 
sibility, may prepare for knowledge, and be displaced by it, but it 
never can become the absolute certainty of fact. No matter how ex- 
treme the likelihood of a thing may be, — no matter how small the 
proportion of the chances against it to the chances for it may be, — 
still, so long as a thing is probable, there is a possibility of the oppo- 
site. W^ere there a thousand millions of chances for an event and only 
one against it, yet that one would render its non-occurrence perfectly 
possible. 

We must, therefore, distinguish between that strong expectation 
which is sometimes called moral certainty, and the absolute confidence 
either of immediate cognition or of necessary inference. Any statement 
which conflicts with the perfect knowledge of reality must be uncondi- 
tionally rejected; but a statement, however improbable, if it be not thus 
opposed to truth, should receive consideration if it be made seriously 
by intelligent persons. It would be very unlikely that a traveller 
should find a gold watch in the midst of the deserts of Sahara, but if 
he really found one all the antecedent improbability would disappear 
before the certainty of fact. We firmly believe that the sun will rise 
to-morrow, — there is no probability that it will not; but there is no 
impossibility and no absurdity in the contrary supposition. 



166 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXHI. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 
ATTENTION AND ACQUISITION. 

1. Having considered the leading topics concerning thought 
and belief, — the primar}^ powers of mind, — we turn to con- 
t<emplate those secondary powers whose operation modifies the 
workings of the primary. They may be enumerated as atten- 
tion^ acquisition^ association^ synthesis^ analysis^ abstraction^ 
and generalization. Such, at least, are the powers whose modi- 
fying influence calls for special study. 

We begin with attention^ — that is, the power of 
fnJr^?i!e., attention ; for, apparently without exception, our fac- 
nientai force uities rcceivc uamcs which yet more properly desig- 
nate the exercise of these faculties. 

Every human spirit has a certain amount of psychical energy, or 
force, which is constantly more or less exercised in the activities 
of the soul's life, and especially in the activity of thought. This 
energ}^ can be distinguished from the faculties or powers into which 
it enters. As general muscular strength can be distinguished 
from that power of involuntary motion possessed bj' the heart and 
other organs, — from capabiUties such as are shown in speaking, 
walking, running, handling, and so forth, — from that acquired 
abilit}' exhibited by experts in various arts and accomphshments, 
— and from the power of performing, without thought, actions 
which through habit have become automatic, — so we distinguish 
ps3X'hical energy in general from the specific powers in which it 
is manifested. The reason of this is that the constitution of 
the soul gives a peculiarit}^ of operation or function to every 
special power. We therefore distinguish from the faculty of 
thought that psychical energ}' necessarily belonging to it. 

Yet this distinction does not of itself justify the conception of 
a faculty difl[erent from thought. It only brings into prominence 
the fact that a certain force is emploj'ed in all thinking. This 
energy varies in different persons, and in the same person at 
different times. The ideas of some men are fresh and vigorous, 
those of others slow and obscure ; while the same person some- 
times apprehends with ease, at other times with difficulty. All 
this does not indicate any specific faculty ; it is simply a result 
of constitutional conditions and of general laws under which 
intellectual life is experienced. 



Chap. XXIIL] ATTENTION AND ACQUISITION. 167 

Attention There is, however, an exertion of energ}^ in connec- 
<iefined. A ^ion with thought which indicates what we maj' prop- 
determinate erl}' style a facultj- ; for it is a determinate employment 
tbrpower^of ^^ power, and it accomplishes a special function. By 
thought. what seems a simple, ultimate law of spiritual activ- 
powVofde- ity, the soul can address itself with peculiar energy 
tention. ^o the observation of any object, or the consideration 
of any subject, which it maj^ desire more fully to comprehend. 
The power thus exercised is called attention. Hamilton defines 
attention as "the concentration of consciousness on a smaller 
number of objects than constitute its widest compass of simulta- 
neous knowledge." This description ma^* be accepted with the 
addition that the effort of attention seems to increase, as well 
as to concentrate, the amount of mental force exercised at any 
one time. By " consciousness," in the above extract, we are to 
understand the general power of thought ; and by " knowledge," 
thought in general. For we can concentrate and stimulate the 
power of thought when there may be no real objects whatever. 

This special exertion of the power of thought in connection 
with some object or idea, or set of objects or ideas, is the essen- 
tial constituent of attention. A sentinel, keenly vigilant for 
every indication of danger, might be said to exercise attention 
in the most general way possible, as his watchfulness would 
include all objects within the reach of his senses. The concen- 
tration of thought, though existing to some extent, would not 
be a prominent feature in such a case. But ordinarily the ele- 
ments or objects to which our attention is directed are of a 
limited number, so that the special exercise of energy in con- 
nection with them has the effect of abstracting the force of 
thought from other objects ; for every human spirit has only a 
limited amount of energy. 

The successive consideration of objects, however vigorous it 
may be, cannot properly be called attention ; it is simply ener- 
getic thought. In attention mental action is directed continu- 
ously to the same object or objects. The earnest consideration 
of subjects, successively, includes successive acts of attention. 
This faculty involves, as a subsidiary and constituent part of 
itself, a certain power of mental detention by which the same 
act of observing or thinking is relocated or prolonged. 
Is attention ^' '^^'^ most important point in the doctrine of 
a voiunta,ry attention is that the operation of this faculty is to 
tnifya^nin- ^ Considerable extent subject to the determinations 
teiiectuai of the will, that power of choice which is natural to 
^^^^^ the soul. According to Dr. Reid, "Attention is a 
voluntary act ; it requires active exertion to begin and continue 



168 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXIIL 

it, and it maj^ be continued as long as we will." Professor 
Stewart coincides in these statements ; Hamilton controverts 
them. He sajs that there are three degrees of attention : 
''the first a mere vital and irresistible act; the second an act 
determined b}^ desire, which, though involuntary^ may be resisted 
by our will ; the third an act determined by a deliberate voli- 
tion." To us a doctrine intermediate between the views of these 
eminent men seems reasonable. 

We agree with Hamilton that there is a vital and irresistible 
exercise of energy in connection with all thought and percep- 
tion, but do not think that this should be called attention. On 
the other hand, choice, properly so called, is not alwa^'s neces- 
s2iV\ to the act of attention ; this is sometimes controlled by 
desires or motive habits which prevail against our formal voli- 
tions. How often people sa}- that they cannot help thinking of 
such and such objects ! How often w^e find ourselves earnestly 
considering some topic simplj- because we have become inter- 
ested in it, without any deliberate determination ! Such facts 
indicate tliat attention is exercised in accordance with that mo- 
tivit}' which ma}' be the prevailing one at the moment, whether 
it be mere unformulated desire, or whether it have the more 
complex character of will, or purpose. 

In this connection we may consider a question which has been 
sometimes raised; — nam elj', whether attention, a power the exer- 
cise of which confessedlj- originates in the motive part of man's 
nature, is properl}^ an intellectual faculty at all. If by the men- 
tal faculties we are to understand those only which are the imme- 
diate fountains of thought and belief, then neither attention nor 
an}" other of the secondary powers can be enumerated in this 
class ; but if that is an intellectual faculty whose proper function 
is immediately to affect and modify the main work of the mind, 
then certainly all the secondary powers may be thus named. 

This, however, must be allowed, that attention has two prin- 
cipal functions, and in this respect is unlike the other subsidiary 
powers, which have each but one. In addition to the modifica- 
tion of thinking and to contributing in this way to intellectual 
results, attention performs a practical part in connection with 
the consideration of motives, and is thus the principal instru- 
ment in the self-control and self-determination of spirit. What- 
ever government the will exercises over psychical life in general 
is exerted through this power, just as its dominion over physical 
life depends upon muscular energy. Attention, therefore, has 
a twofold character : in one use it is an intellectual faculty ; in 
another it is part of the practical faculty, — the faculty of action, 
as distinguished from that of thought. Attention is a mental 



chap.xxiil] attention and acquisition. 169 

faculty only so far as it modifies the working and affects the 
results of the primary powers of mind. But we should notice 
that it retains this character, more or less, even while helping to 
constitute the faculty of action. 

The great importance of attention, in the S3^stem of 
talfce'oF the our mental faculties, is evident from its ver}^ nature. 
faculty of at- It is a powcr whose use is at once most general and 
oMts^c'u'w- most indispensable. All those facts, whether of the 
em^io ment "material or the spiritual world, which constitute the 
original basis of thought and i^nowledge, are definitely 
seized and ascertained only through attentive observation and 
reflection. Moreover, those faculties of recollection, reason, 
and imagination, which elaborate the materials possessed by the 
mind, demand the continual exercise of attention. Whenever 
this power intermits its action, mental progress ceases. Atten- 
tion is the action of the frame which holds in place the warp of 
that cloth which the subtile machinery of mind is weaving. When 
this frame performs its part imperfectl}^, confusion immediately 
ensues. Attention also has an important relation to memory, 
though less directly than to the intentional operations of mind. 
The permanent acquisition of thought depends greath', if not 
entirely, on the vigor with which it maj^ be first entertained, 
which vigor is controlled by attention. Should we desire to 
impress some beautiful scene upon the mind, or to commit some 
valuable fact or truth to memory, we must regard it earnestly. 

Such being the case, it is plain that this power should be 
assiduously cultivated by those who would hope for an}- worthy 
intellectual attainments. And in this we should be encouraged 
b}'' the consideration that no faculty admits of growth and de- 
velopment more than attention. Every faithful scholar can 
testify of that wonderful increase in the abilit}'' for mental appli- 
cation which results from a thorough course of study. The 
opinion of some that " genius is nothing but a continued atten- 
tion" — "a prolonged patience" — is an extreme one. But 
beyond question this faculty is an essential part of all true 
genius, and it is that element of mental greatness most within 
the reach of honest endeavor ; it is also that of which great 
men themselves have been most fully conscious. 

Sir Isaac Newton, when complimented on his marvellous 
achievements, replied that if he had made an}- discoveries, 
it was owing more to patient attention than to any other talent. 
Dickens ascribed his success to a ver}^ painstaking study of the 
characters and details of his stories. Sometimes, with eminent 
men, the abstraction of mind resulting from intense application 
to favorite subjects has rendered them well-nigh insensible to 



170 MENTAL SCIENCE, [Chap. XXIII. 

passing events. Archimedes was not aware of the storming of 
S3'racuse till he received his death-wound from soldiers whom 
he forbade to disturb his circles. Cardan, the illustrious mathe- 
matician, when on a journey, forgot his wa}' and his object. 
The driver, asking whither he should proceed, received no 
answer, and at nightfall the carriage came to a stand directly 
under a gallows. On the day of his wedding Budaeus forgot 
everything, and was wakened to the life of the external world 
b^' an embassy from the marriage party, who found him absorbed 
in the composition of his "' Commentarii." 

The great power of attention to modify the inclinations and 
purposes of the soul, and ultimately the whole motive character, 
is a topic worthy of consideration. The direction of thought to 
right rules and reasons for one's conduct in life, the contempla- 
tion of virtuous examples, the cherishing of honorable and dutiful 
plans and conceptions, and the rejection of ideas which solicit 
to evil, are the immediate causes of pure and elevated experi- 
ence ; the admission of sinful thoughts, the indulgence of vile 
fancies and degrading memories, and the stud}' of wicked 
schemes, are the sure means of spiritual ruin. " I would as 
soon," said Dr. Thomas E. Thomas, the eloquent president of 
Hanover College, — " I would as soon think of putting a bottle 
of hell-fire into the hands of my children as a cop}' of the works 
of Lord B3'ron." But, rightl}', the discussion of this topic 
belongs to moral philosoph}'. 

The power of ^' Having discussed the faculty of attention, it 
acquisition scems proper that we should next consider the faculty 
defined. ^^ acquisition ; for while the former of these is the 
condition of the present use of the materials of thought, the 
latter is the condition of our subsequent use of them. Thus 
the development of mental life is equally conditioned on the exer- 
cise of these two powers. 

Moreover, to a great extent, acquisition is dependent on 
attention ; for the greater the energy with which any object 
ma}' be contemplated, the longer will the abihty to think of 
it again remain among the possessions of the mind. 

But here a difference is to be noticed between material and 
mental acquirements. The former are substances of various 
kinds, such as gold, silver, lands, cattle, houses, goods, and so 
forth, — or if not such things, at least a share or a right in them ; 
the latter are accessions of ability, whereby we are enabled to 
repeat acts of thought, belief, or knowledge which we have once 
experienced. When we speak of the mind committing ideas to 
memory, or receiving and storing up useful knowledge, or exer- 
cising the power of acquisition, our language is figurative; it 



Chap. XXIII.] ATTENTION AND ACQUISITION. 171 

means simpl}- that the mind is qualifying itself for the future 
reproduction of its present intellectual activities. This power 
operates more or less in connection with all thought, or mental 
action ; but being greatl}' dependent on attention, and thus sub- 
ject to the direction of the will, it is often employed on purpose, 
and on this account ma}' be styled a faculty- . Speaking of the 
power of acquisition, we merely' express the idea of a mental 
energy ; speaking of the faculty of acquisition, we signify that 
the energy is or ma}^ be that of intentional doing. Eveiy 
studious and inquiring person continuallj' exercises this faculty, 
and therefore satisfies his desire to know, and informs himself 
for the right conduct of his affairs. 

We have included the power of detention in the facultj^ of 
attention as a subordinate 3'et essential part. In doing so, we 
followed a rule which naturally and ordinaril}" controls the for- 
mation of our conceptions, — namelj', not to conceive and speak 
separately of an entit}^ invariably accompanying some other 
more prominent object when there is no need for a separate 
conception. In such cases the mind sirapl}' enlarges its notion 
of the more prominent object, so as to include wdthin it that of 
the accompaniment. When this rule can be observed without in- 
jury to philosophic progress, the neglect of it savors of undue 
refinement. 

Hence, also, within the faculty of acquisition we place a 
power without which this faculty would be useless, and w^iose 
function is to carr}- on the work which acquisition begins. The 
potency to which we refer operates in passive resistance rather 
than in any positive action, and may be named the conservative^ 
or retentive^ i^ovier of the intellect. It manifests itself in preserv- 
ing, against detractive influences, the tendenc}' of an acquired 
and latent idea to reproduce itself on proper occasion. 

This function of mind is easih' distinguished from that 
whereb}^ an idea or belief is first received among the posses- 
sions of the soul ; 3'et this distinction does not justif}' the 
conception of two faculties. We prefer to think of acquisition 
and conservation as together constituting a compound secondary 
power by which our thinkings are rendered read}' for future 
reproduction. This faculty might be named either acquisition 
or conservation, according to the element more prominent in 
one's thought ; but, ordinaril}^ one name should suffice for both 
powers, as the functions of both naturally constitute a unity. 

No general agreement has been reached by philosophers in 
regard to the mode in which the acquisitive and conservative 
power produces its results ; but the fact of its action must be 
accepted as a radical truth. The putting away of ideas in a 



172 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXUL 

storehouse ; the writing down of thoughts upon the tablet of 
memor}' ; the reception of flj'ing appearances, species, or images 
which collect in the thinking soul, — these and such expressions 
record and illustrate the fact, but do not explain it. 
Theories ex- 4. The majority of writers do not attempt an}' ac- 
pianiing ac- count of this matter. Those who do ma}' be divided 
reilroduc- iuto three classes : First, there are those whom two 
ener<Ties^*^"* famous philosophers of the seventeenth century, 
Gasseiidi and LoclvC and Gasseudi, may represent. These hold 
*^^^^' the doctrine of latent energies ; they teach that ten- 

dencies are produced in the mind which remain inactive till 
proper encouragement for their action may occur. Gassendi 
compares the mind to a sheet of paper capable of receiving one 
series of folds after another, and of being smoothed out so that 
the folds become invisible, and on which, if an}' fold be renewed, 
the others connected with it also reappear. The chief thought 
suggested by this illustration is that every fold retains a ten- 
dency to renew itself, so that the pressure of a moving finger or 
point, on the line of any fold, may encourage this tendency, and 
cause the fold to reappear ; and a pressure near the place where 
two or more folds have crossed each other will act in a similar 
way as to several folds, though more successfully in regard to 
some than to others. This pressure may typify the influence of 
attentive thinking as operating upon the cognate but uncon- 
scious reproductive tendencies acquired in previous thinkings. 

According to another figure, past thoughts have been compared 
to sentences written with an ink which, when dry, loses its visi- 
bility, but which recovers this again whenever the writing may 
be subjected to a certain degree of heat. 

Locke, in expressing his views, speaks of the memory as the 
storehouse of our ideas. " But," he says, "our ideas being 
nothing but actual perceptions in the mind, which cease to be 
anything when there is no perception of them, this laying up 
of our ideas in the repository of the memory signifies no more 
but this, that the mind has a power in many cases to revive 
perceptions which it has once had, with this additional percep- 
tion annexed to them, — that it had them before. And in this 
sense it is that our ideas are said to be in our memories, when, 
indeed, they are actually nowhere, but only there is an ability 
in the mind when it will to revive them again, and, as it were, 
to paint them anew on itself, though some with more, others 
with less, diflSculty, — some more lively, and others more ob- 
scurely." 

The principal point in the view of Locke and Gassendi is 
that mental phenomena occur and then wholly disappear, while 



Chap. XXIII.] ATTENTION AND ACQUISITION. 173 

yet they leave in the mind a tendency which very frequently, 
upon the occurrence of certain conditions, reproduces them. 
This doctrine is reasonable, and conformable to facts. 

A second class of thinkers, who hold that the mind 
aSfvity^^^"^ never ceases from an}' definite mode of action which 
Schmid. jt has once begun, explain the reproduction of thought 
by the theory', which Leibnitz originated, of uncon- 
scious psychical activity. The German metaphysician Schmid, 
followed by Hamilton and others, thus applies that theory. 
''The problem," he says, "is not how a mental activit}' endures, 
but how it ever vanishes. . . . The solution is to be sought for 
in the theory of obscure or latent modifications. The disappear- 
ance of internal energies from the view of internal perception 
does not warrant the conclusion that they no longer exist. . . . 
Onl}^ the more vivid changes sufficientlj^ affect our consciousness 
to become objects of its apprehension ; we consequently are 
conscious only of the more prominent series of changes ; the 
others remain for the most part latent." Everj^ new cognition 
draws to itself a chief part of the general energy or force of the 
intellect. "This force in the same proportion is withdrawn 
from the other earlier cognitions ; and it is they, consequently, 
which must undergo the fate of obscuration ." These latent — or, 
to speak more properl}-, insensible — cognitions become sensible 
again upon a stimulus received from some kindred exercise of 
energy. This theor}^ of acquisition, like that of unconscious 
mental activit}' on which it is founded, is unsupported by any 
basis of fact. Theories which have their chief strength in their 
consistency with other theories, similarly situated in this respect, 
can claim our regard only as improbable h3'potheses of more or 
less ingenuity. 

Finall}', materialistic philosophers, such as Auguste 
hjTothSS**' Comte and Herbert Spencer, as also those men of 
s^^?er science who accept their leadership, regard the acqui- 
pence . gition, retention, and reproduction of thought as being 
nothing more than closely related modes of nervous action. 
According to Comte, "The positive theory of the intellectual 
and affective functions consists in the study, rational and ex- 
perimental, of the various phenomena of internal sensibility 
which are proper to the cerebral ganglia. ... It therefore is 
only a simple prolongation of animal physiology, properly so 
called." According to Spencer, all mental phenomena are feel- 
ings ; and " the degree of the revivability of a feeling depends 
on the extent to which the nervous centre concerned was capable 
of undergoing much molecular change, and evolving much of 
the concomitant feeling when the original excitation was re- 



174 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXIII. 

ceived." In addition to this he saj's : "Other things equal, a 
given past feeling may be brought into consciousness vividl}', 
faintly, or not at all, according as the nervous centre concerned 
is or is not well repaired and well supplied with blood at the 
moment the remembrance is suggested." Thus reproduction 
is all accounted for by the excitation of faint tendencies to 
molecular action collected in the nervous system. 

In perusing the writings of our modern materialists, one mar- 
vels at the boldness with which the secret workings of Nature 
are portraj^ed, as if these had been accurately observed and 
anal3zed. The ascertained facts of pliN'siology are indeed in- 
genioush' used, but along with this there is a liberal intermixture 
of conjecture. And 3'et the insurmountable objection to mate- 
rialistic theories is not the scantiness of the facts on which they 
are based. The difficulty is one which no supph' of facts can 
be expected to remove. It is the impossibilit}' of accepting any 
form of materialism, even though all the phj'siological conjec- 
tures with which it ma}' be accompanied should be admitted. 
However in the present life certain changes and states of body 
ma}' condition and affect the changes and states of spirit, we 
can never conceive the latter to be identical with the former. 

When we endeavor to think of thoughts, emotions, and other 
psychical experiences as simph' forms of the action of molecular 
forces, the mind refuses to act, or rather it acts in the way of 
absolute denial. We cannot even conceive of spiritual phe- 
nomena as wholly caused b}' such forces ; for the\' reveal powers 
whose operation, however modified b}' physical inflaences, is 
wholl}' sui generis. Noticing the effects of severe study, of 
weight}' care, of strong emotion, and of various modes of men- 
tal occupation upon one's bodily state, as also our direct use 
and control of muscular power, we perceive that the soul acts 
upon the bod}' as truly as the body acts upon the soul. Let 
nervous action be explained as it may, we must hold to the 
distinct existence of spirit and its faculties. 

The depend- ^- ^* *^® &^mQ time it is plain that psychical life is ex- 
encecracqui-perienced by us under physical conditions, and that an 
sition and important though obscure department of science concerns 
upm?'tilfi'c- the operation of these conditions. In particular it is to 
tionofthe be observed that none of our mental powers exhibit more 
+ ^.^'"v„5i:1" dependence upon the state of the body than do those of 
instances. acquisition, conservation, and reproduction. liVery one 
Somnam- knows how difficult the study of what is new, and the 
buhsm. recollection of what is old, become when one is either weak 

or exhausted; these things are easy when, as Spencer says, the nerves 
are in good repair and well supplied with blood. The effect of anaes- 
thetics, such as chloroform, of narcotics, such as morphine, and of 



Chap. XXIII.] ATTENTION AND ACQUISITION. 175 

stimulants, such as alcohol, is very immediate upon the nervous sys- 
tem, and through that upon psychical action, which in this way 
may be increased or decreased, or made irregular and irrational, or 
suppressed entirely. 

Every medical practitioner is familiar with the power of bodily 
diseases and injuries to affect the intellect. Fevers produce temporary 
delirium ; paralysis weakens the memory ; apoplexy and even old age 
sometimes destroy it. A blow on the head produces insensibility; 
a disease of i]i& brain, mental incompetency or, it may be, absolute 
lunacy or mania. Such truths as these are not to be overlooked; they 
show how greatly — doubtless for wise ends — the present life of the 
human spirit has been subjected to corporeal conditions. 

Various extraordinary instances of the effect of disease upon the 
faculties of acquisition and reproduction have been noticed in philo- 
sophical writings. Coleridge, in his " Biographia Literaria," tells of 
a maid-servant in Germany, who took ill of nervous fever. During her 
delirium she recited passages from the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew lan- 
guages, acting as if she were inspired by some good or some evil spirit. 
Her sentences, being carefully taken down, were found to be extracts 
from classical and rabbinical wrfters. After much inquiry it was as- 
certained that she had once lived in the service of an old and learned 
pastor who had been in the habit of repeating aloud passages from his 
favorite authors as he walked in the hall of his house. The sound of 
the words, without their meaning, had lodged in the girl's memory, and 
had been recalled through the excitement of the fever. 

Dr. Abercrombie tells of a boy who, when four years old, received 
an injury on the head. During the operation of trepanning he was 
apparently unconscious, and after the operation he remembered noth- 
ing of the attendant circumstances; but after the lapse of eight years, 
and in the delirium of sickness, he accurately recounted the particulars 
of the transaction, telling who were present, how they were dressed, 
and what parts they severally performed. 

In like manner the Rev. Timothy Flint records of himself that 
during a malarial fever he repeated long passages from Homer and 
Virgil, which he had never formally committed to memory, and of 
which, before and after the fever, he could not recite any considerable 
portion. Such cases justify a conjecture that the nervous excitement of 
certain diseases exerts a repressive or overwhelming influence upon those 
te?idencies to reproductive thought ivh'ich are stronger because more recent, 
hut acts as a proper stimulus upon older and weaker tendencies. This 
same idea is suggested by a phenomenon frequently noticed, — namely, 
the recovery of a disused language, while one of later use is lost. Dr. 
Rush, in his "Medical Inquiries," says that he attended an Italian, 
who died of yellow fever, who at first spoke English, after that French, 
and towards his end Italian only. He records, also, the statement of 
a Lutheran clergyman that old German immigrants, on their death- 
beds, often prayed in their native tongue, though some of them cer- 
tainly had not spoken it for many years. President Porter relates that 
a favorite pupil of his, the son of a missionary in Syria, but who had 
spent much of his life in the United States, spoke Arabic, an almost for- 
gotten language, during his last hours. His disease was yellow fever. 



176 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXIII 

Another class of observations favor a conjecture that the brain or its 
molecules may he made to assume a state so related to another state replaced 
hy it, and hy ich'ich in turn it may itself be replaced, that the reproduclice 
tendencies connected with either state are wholly or in part disabled from 
operating during the continuance of the other state. With reference to 
each other, these states might be styled allotropic. The case of the 
Rev. William Tennent, a distinguished Presbyterian clergyman of 
New Jersey, is one in point. After severe sickness he was for a time 
supposed to be dead. He recovered, and was then found to have lost all 
his previous acquisitions, even to the memory of the alphabet. On a 
sudden he experienced a violent pain in his head, and instantly regained 
his former intelligence and information. 

The case of a lady mentioned by President Porter differs from the 
foregoing in that her lost knowledge never returned. This lady fell 
into a severe illness by reason of protracted mental and bodily suffer- 
ings experienced during a storm at sea and a shipwreck ; after which, 
although she was apparently restored to perfect health, it was found 
that the greater part of her acquired knowledge was gone. An analo- 
gous case is mentioned in Tupper's '' Inquiry into Gall's System of 
Phrenology:" "A man was brought into St. Thomas's Hospital, 
who had received a considerable injury on the head, from which he 
ultimately recovered. When he became convalescent, he spoke a lan- 
guage which no one about him could comprehend. However, a Welsh 
milk woman came one day into the ward, and immediately understood 
what he said. It appeared that the poor fellow was a Welshman, and 
had been away from his native country about thirty years. In the 
course of that period he had entirely forgotten his native tongue, and 
acquired the English language-, but when he recovered from his acci- 
dent, he forgot the language he had been recently speaking, and ac- 
quired the knowledge of that which he had originally acquired and lost. " 

A more remarkable instance than any already mentioned is detailed 
in a report of Dr. Dewar, read before the Edinburgh Royal Society 
in February, 1822. It was that of a girl sixteen years of age, who 
during a period of more than three months was frequently the subject 
of a somnambulistic affection. During the continuance of each attack 
of this affection she performed and witnessed many things of which, 
upon returning to her more normal state, she retained no recollection. 
Dr. Dewar gives the point of chief interest in her case as follows: 
" The circumstances lohich occurred during the paroxysm were completely 
forgotten when the paroxysm was over., but were perfectly remembered 
during subsequent paroxysms.^'' The report sustains this statement by 
a number of facts. One Sunday she was taken to church by her 
mistress while the paroxysm was on her. She shed tears during the 
sermon, particularly during the account given of the execution of three 
young men at Edinburgh, who had described in their dying declara- 
tions the dangerous steps with which their career took its commence- 
ment. When she returned home, she recovered in a quarter of an 
hour, was amazed at the questions put to her about the sermon, and 
denied that she had been at church. But the next night, on being 
taken ill, she mentioned that she had been at church, repeated the 
words of the text, and, in the hearing of Dr. Dyce, her physician, gave 



Chap.xxiil] attention and acquisition. 177 

an accurate account of the tragical narrative of the three young men." 
This girl complained of confusion and oppression in her head at the 
coming on of each paroxysm. 

Combe, in his "Plirenology," tells how a Dr. Abel informed him of 
an Irish porter who forgot, when sober, what he had done when drunk; 
but being drunk again, recollected the transactions of his former state 
of intoxication. " On one occasion, being drunk, he lost a parcel of 
some value, of which in his sober moments he could give no account; 
but wlien next intoxicated, he recollected that he had left the parcel 
at a certain house, and, tbere being no address on it, it had remained 
there safely, and was got on his calling for it." Phenomena similar 
to the above take place in connection with that somnambulism pro- 
duced by what is called animal magnetism; the person m.agnetized 
thinks and acts with very little if any reference to the life and 
thoughts of his normal state. 

We shall conclude our illustrations with an account presented by 
Dr. Mitchell to the Rev. Dr. Nott, and published in the "Medical 
Repository" of January, 1816, and which concerned a case still in 
progress at. the date of that publication. Major Ellicott, then pro- 
fessor of mathematics at West Point, had a relative in western Penn- 
sylvania, named Miss R , who had arrived at adult age with a 

good bodily constitution and excellent health. She was a well-educated 
lady, and had a capacious and well-stored memory. "Unexpectedly, 
and without any forewarning, she fell into a profound sleep, which 
continued several hours beyond the ordinary teim. On waking she 
was discovered to have lost every trait of acquired knowledge. Her 
memory was tahvia rasa ; all vestiges, both of words and things, were 
obliterated. It was found necessary for her to learn everything again. 
She acquired by new efforts the arts of spelling, reading, writing, and 
calculating, and gradually became acquainted with the pei'sons and 
objects around, like a being for the first time brought into the world. 
In these exercises she made considerable proficiency; but after a few 
months another fit of somnolency invaded her. On rousing from it, 
she found herself restored to the state she was in before the first 
paroxysm, but was wholly ignorant of every event and occurrence 
that had befallen her afterwards. The former condition of her exist- 
ence she now calls the 'old state,' and the latter the 'new state;' 
and she is as unconscious of her double character as two distinct per- 
sons are of their respective natures. During four years and upwards, 
she has undergone periodical transitions from one of these states to the 
other. The alterations are always consequent upon a long and sound 
sleep. In her old state she possesses all her original knowledge; in 
her new state only what she has acquired since. If people be 
introduced to her in the old state, or in the new state, to know 
them satisfactorily, she must learn them in both states. And so of 
all other matters. In the old state she possesses fine powers of pen- 
manship, while in the new she writes a poor awkward hand, not hav- 
ing had time to become expert. Both the lady and her family are now 
capable of conducting the affair without embarrassment. By simply 
knowing whether she is in the old or in the new state, they regulate 
the intercourse and govern themselves accordingly." 

12 



178 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXIV. 

With respect to this whole subject of the dependence of mental 
upon bodily states, two points are noteworthy. 

First, there is abundant evidence that mental action during the 
present life is dependent upon, and influenced by, the condition of the 
brain. By various affections of this organ the action of thought is 
either stimulated or retarded, or limited or deranged, or even alto- 
gether suspended. In what way these results are produced is entirely 
unknown; the reality of them is beyond question. 

Secondly, there is no proof that those peculiar modes of action which 
we style mental are, in any proper sense, the product of brain forces. 
On the contrary, they differ so utterly from physical or molecular activi- 
ties, that we necessarily ascribe them to an agent whose character and 
powers are suitable for their production, — that is, to an immaterial 
and spiritual agent, which agent is revealed to us in consciousness. 

And so far as we can see, the powers of mind, while greatly subject 
to corporeal conditions, have also to a yet greater extent an independent 
operation of their own. Acting within the limits of their bodily con- 
ditions, they immediately and of themselves produce an endless variety 
of life and experience. At least such an opinion, though not neces- 
sary to the doctrine of the distinct existence of spirit and its powers, 
seems more probable than that every individual thought has a cerebral 
state or change specifically corresponding to it, either as cause or as 
effect; for we cannot but suppose that the principal factor in mental 
life is mind. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE PRIMAEY LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 

1. The operation of the secondary powers can be distin- 
guished from that of the primary powers onh' by a somewhat 
subtile anal3'sis. This was to be expected ; because the second- 
ar}' powers have no separate function, but only the office of modi- 
fying the workings of the primary. On the other hand, after that 
distinction has been made, one must guard against a tendency 
to think of any secondary power as if it had independent ex- 
istence and operation ; for such a tendency arises whenever we 
make the indissoluble parts or elements of some whole the 
objects of analytic thought and speech. The secondary- pow- 
ers are simplj^ modifications of the general faculty of intellect, 
by reason of which it has various peculiarities of action. Yet 
these peculiarities and their causes are worthy of separate 
consideration. 

Association, Having discussed attention and acquisition, we 
derinefrand"' ^^^'^'^ to reproduction. This power does not differ 
illustrated, essentially from the re-presentative potency, the two 

It's 1 m HOI*— i »/ ' 

tance. " being really the same thing as viewed in different 



Chap. XXIV.] PRIMARY LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 179 

relations. A choice of terms being thus possible, we favor 
"reproduction" as genera%, if not always, preferable to "re- 
presentation." Not only is the latter term ambiguous, its phil- 
osophical differing from its ordinary signification, but it is also, 
in its philosophical meaning, suggestive of the mistaken theory 
that the object of a thought is always in some sense hterally 
presented again when the thought is reproduced. 

But even the term "reproduction" has not occupied so 
large a place in mental philosophy as the term " associa- 
tion ; " and this for a good reason. For wdien we consider 
the reproductive power with reference to the fundamental con- 
ditions or laws which regulate its action, we do not call it 
reproduction, but association, or suggestion ; and most of the 
questions concerning this power pertain to it under tliis light. 
We have considered the fact that the mind has a reproductive 
potenc3% and have discussed certain theories connected with that 
fact. We shall now endeavor to determine those laws of asso- 
ciation, or suggestion, which govern reproductive thought. 

That such laws exist and operate, cannot be denied. How 
quickly the name of Christopher Columbus suggests the dis- 
covery of America, and that of Martin Luther the Reformation 
of the sixteenth century, and that of Alexander the Great the 
conquest of Asia by the Greeks ! How man}^ delightful memo- 
ries cluster around the home of one's childhood ! What solemn 
thoughts inhabit the church of God I How naturally patriotic 
reflections arise when the Declaration of Independence is read 
in our hearing ! And what searching questions present them- 
selves as we give heed to the commands of the Decalogue, or 
to our Saviour's "Sermon on the Mount"! Nothing can be 
more evident than that a thought, consciously experienced, tends 
in some way to suggest and recall other thoughts. 

Moreover, this function of the suggestive potenc}^ is equal 
in practical importance to that of the primary powers of in- 
tellect. If the reproductive tendency did not exist, or even 
were it not qualified by a tendency causing our thoughts to 
observe some natural connection, the recoveries of reminis- 
cence, the constructions of imagination, and the investigations 
of reason would all be things impossible. But immediately 
after the first awakening of the infant mind in sense-perception, 
and the new cognition of things visible and invisible, the asso- 
ciative power begins to act, and thenceforward works inces- 
santly. And when the mind, of itself, thus reproduces its ideas, 
and that in some sort of connection, onl}^ patience and care are 
requisite in order to the effective use of the powers of thought ; 
for, as Professor Stewart observes, " when we dwell long on the 



180 * MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXIV 

same idea, we obtain all the others to which it is in an}' way 
related, and thus are furnished with materials on which our 
powers of judgment and reasoning may be eraplo3'ed." 

To some authors " suggestion'' seems a more befit- 
"assoS^ ting term than " association," to express the action of 
tion" and the powcr uudcr consideration ; and not without cause. 
tioS/^^ A When we say that one thought suggests another, we 
a'facuity^* mean that the idea of one object excites, and intro- 
duces to the attention, the idea of another object ; 
this is a more essentially important result than that association, 
or union, which takes place when two or more thoughts are first 
experienced together. Suggestion is conditioned upon associa- 
tion ; both may be considered operations of the same power, as 
they are elements of the same general function. But it is in 
suggestion that the office of the power is accomplished. 

AYe more naturally speak of the power than of the facult}' of 
association, or suggestion, because this potenc}', considered in 
itself, is a factor which works without the guidance of the will. 
Frequentl}', indeed, it is controlled and emploj'ed so as to con- 
tribute to some specific and intentional intellectual undertaking ; 
but it is then regarded as a subordinate element of some larger 
facult}', rather than as an independent power. Of itself it is 
not a complete instrument. 

Thehistor ^' ^^^^'^ ^^^ working of this power first engaged 
of opinions, the attention of modern philosophers, the succession 
men.^^rJavid ^^ *^"^ thoughts could uot be seen to observe any law. 
Hume, Some of the schoolmen saj' that the "resuscitation of 

ideas," the " excitation of the species," is " the very 
greatest m3'ster3^ of all philosophy." The 3'ounger Scaliger, 
the learned son of a most learned father, said, "My father 
declared that of the causes of three things in particular he was 
whoU}' ignarant, — of the interval of fevers, of the ebb and flow 
of the sea, and of reminiscence." In these words he expressed 
the ignorance, not only of himself and of his father, but also 
of the age in which they lived. Nor have these mysteries even 
3'et been wholh^ solved. 

For a long time after the revival of letters the ancient doctrine 
of ideas and of species continued to exercise great influence. 
Our conceptions were given a kind of existence independent 
alike of the mind and of the objects to which they correspond. 
Most errors which exhibit lasting vitahty derive their strength 
from some natural and permanent but fallacious ground of 
belief, rather than from any historical origin or advocacy. The 
false theor3^ which we have just stated, was favored, in modern 
no less than in ancient times, by the structure of language, in 



Chap. XXIV.] PRIMARY LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 181 

which our conceptions are given an apparent independence of 
existence and operation, and by our natural tendency to regard 
things separately conceived of as being also separate and sub- 
stantial entities. '^ It was not till after the time of Locke that 
ideas were clearly shown and seen to be but exercises of the 
intellectual power, and not at all things endowed in themselves 
with attraction or with an^^ other potency. 

Such being the case, the causes of mental association and 
suggestion were first sought for in our ideas themselves as the 
representative appearances of objects, and were ascribed to them 
as having that character. Moreover, as the succession of ideas 
is the phenomenal expression of the operation of the suggestive 
power, and exhibits certain uniformities in consequence of the 
orderly working of the power, it was to be expected that obser- 
vation sooner or later would detect these uniformities and 
enunciate them as laws. This task was undertaken by a famous 
Scottish philosopher. David Hume, in the early part of the 
eighteenth century, by his clear and elegant writings, showed to 
what an extreme a logical scepticism might be carried b}^ one 
who based his reasonings on the doctrines of a defective philoso- 
phy. Rejecting as untrustworthy the conceptions of substance 
and power and force, he made all phenomena to consist only 
in impressions and ideas. His writings incited many thought- 
ful minds to investigate the ultimate grounds of human belief. 
Hume, like his Enghsh contemporary, Hartlej', accounted for 
every mental process b}^ the succession of ideas under the laws 
of association. These laws he reduced to three : the first refer- 
ring to contiguity i7i time or space ; the second to similarity ; 
and the third to the relation of cause and effect., which, however, 
Hume explains to be simply uniformity' of succession. 

That such laws are constantl}' exemplified, no one can deny. 
Things which have been thought of as closely related in time or 
in space, or as united b}' the bond of cause and effect, or 
which are similar, often suggest one another. How naturally, 
when some great man, such as Caesar, is mentioned, we recall 
the principal actors and events of his time ; or when some noted 
place is*named, such as the Roman Forum, we think of the mag- 
nificent monuments with which it was adorned, and of the 
important transactions which transpired within it ! Or, contem- 
plating Caesar and the Forum, we are led to consider the causes 
which destroyed Roman liberty, and which put an end to Roman 
eloquence. The thought of Caesar, again, through the principle 
of similarity, suggests other instances of successful usurpation ; 
as the Forum brings to mind other spheres for the exercise of 
popular abihty. Hume claimed to be the first who enunciated 



182 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXIV. 

these laws of association, and probably was the first by whom 
they had been discussed at length. Aristotle, however, in his 
treatise concerning Reminiscence, teaches that " we search for 
a next thought by thinking from the present or some other 
(time), and from the similar, or the contrarj^ or the proximate," 
— " voT^crai/re'? oltto tov vvv rj aXXov rtT/o?, koI acfi o/xolov^ rj ivavrtov, -^ 
Tov o-weyyi;?." Thus he gives the relations of nearness in time., 
of similarity^ of contrariety^ and of vicinity^ as the fundamental 
conditions, at least of intentional recollection. 
Acompari- ^* Comparing Hume with Aristotle, we find that 
son of views, the modern philosopher mentions the relation of cause 
of cause and and effect, which is not named by the ancient one ; 
effect and of ^h[|e Aristotle Specifies contrariety, which is not in 

conti aneiy ^ • t i •> 

specially Hume s enumeration, in each case a reason can be 
discussed. g.|^^j^ ^^j^. ^i^g omission. On the behalf of Aristotle 
it maj' be denied that the relation of cause and effect could, of 
itself, form a suggestional law, if the objects connected by it had 
not been previously considered as existing together or in imme- 
diate succession. No causal object could suggest any resultant 
object which had not previously been seen as closely related to 
it in time and space ; and so, conversel}-, as to the resultant 
object. 

This denial, however, admits of the reply that although a 
cause and its effect must always be first seen under the contigui- 
ties of time and space, yet the particulars of these contiguities, 
and even the contiguities themselves, may be entirely lost sight 
of or neglected, while jQi the association of thought remains. 
When we hear a voice we expect to find a person, and this with- 
out the slightest reference to any time or place where the con- 
nection between speech and speaker may have been perceived 
by us. This reply would be satisfactory to us, though we are 
not sure that Hume could consistently use it. 

Again, on Hume's behalf, a strong reason may be given for 
the omission of contrariety from the list of suggestive relations. 
It is that no objects are contrasted with one another save those 
which have a common nature, or general resemblance, on which 
nature, as a background, their differences become proiflinently 
noticeable. An elephant is contrasted with a mouse, not with a 
pebble, because the two objects first mentioned are both quad- 
rupeds. A giant is contrasted, not with a shrub, but with a 
dwarf or a child, because the latter also are human beings. 
White is contrasted with red, and hot with cold, because the 
things thus contrasted have an underlying sameness ; we do not 
oppose white to hot, or cold to red. Csesar, passing through an 
Alpine village, remarked that he would rather be the first man 



Chap. XXIV.] PRIMARY LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 183 

there than the second in Rome ; such a thought would not have 
occurred to him had not both the pettj' village and the world's 
great capital been alike the dwelling-places of men. The an- 
tithesis of objects is founded on their likeness no less than on 
their dissimilarit}'. 

Such being the case, it must be allowed that without simi- 
larity contraries could not suggest one another, and indeed that 
contraries suggest one another by reason of their radical likeness 
rather than of their opposite qualities. This is evident, because 
things which are so different from each other as to have no 
noticeable sameness do not suggest each other at all. 

Yet while likeness, not difference, is the bond of association in 
cases of contrast, it is also clear that contrariety strengthens this 
bond and intensifies the suggestive tendency. We more readily 
think of an opposite than of an object which without contrast may 
partake of a generic resemblance. This seems to result from 
the desires of the mind ; for if we are seeking rational knowl- 
edge, contrast contributes to the clearness of our analysis, and 
is naturally sought on this account ; while if we have practical 
ends in view, we naturally aim to know what may disappoint as 
well as what may gratify our wishes. Contrariety, therefore, may 
be considered a ground of suggestion, yet onh" in a secondary 
way, and becanse of certain motivities which operate in connec- 
tion with the law of resemblance, and qualif}^ its workings. 

Considering the law of contrariet}' as a peculiar and important 
mode of the law of similarit}', and on this account omitting it from 
a generic enumeration, there remain the laws of contiguit}^, of 
immediate consecution, of cause and effect, and of resemblance. 
Contemplating these again carefully, two thoughts arise. 

First, it is apparent that an}^ one of the three laws 
simuUaiieity first mentioned operates only when objects have been 
fty ^ ^Bot?i^^" alreadj', at some previous time, perceived or imagined 
explained by to co-cxist in the relation to which the law refers, — 
dinte^^ration" that is, whcu the thoughts of the objects must have 
Hamilton, been previousl}' associated in the mind. 

But this is not the case with respect to the law of 
similartty ; for how frequently, in meeting people whom we have 
never seen before, we are reminded of those whom we have seen, 
— faces suggesting faces with which they have never previously 
been consociated in thought ! But no place, no date, no event, 
however noted, can, while viewed simply in itself, suggest any 
object not heretofore connected with it in our knowledge or 
conception. Thus the law of resemblance, including that also 
of contrariety, is separated by a radical distinction from the 
other suggestional relations. 



184 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXIV. 

Secondly, since the laws of contiguity, of consecution, and of 
cause and effect operate onl}' after the previous co-existence of 
conceptions in thought, we are led to conjecture that this co- 
existence may be, or ma}^ indicate, the essential source of the 
efficacy of all these laws. This conjecture is confirmed by the 
fact that cases occur which cannot easily be explained by any 
of the laws under consideration, yet which, nevertheless, fall 
under the general law of simultaneity of conception. The 
hearing or the remembrance of a name instantly suggests the 
idea of the object to which it belongs, although the object and 
its name may have no other relation in thought than that of the 
sign and the thing signified. Caesar and Cicero ma^^ suggest 
one another because the}' were contemporaries, felow-citizens 
of Rome, and actors in the same historical events ; but the 
names of Caesar and Cicero, respectively, suggest the thought 
of their owners without reference to the relations of time or 
place or eflicienc}'. 

Another illustration of this point is found in the tendenc}" of 
any part of anj' object to suggest the other parts. One precept 
of the art of war or of government may suggest another, sim- 
pl}' because both are members of the same whole ; indeed, as 
Professor Stewart says, ^' there is no possible relation among 
the objects of our knowledge which may not serve to connect 
them together in the mind'' In order to such an association, 
it is needful onlj- that the objects, as related to each other in 
some waj', should appear together before the mind's attention. 
This generic law Hamilton styles the law of simidtaneity ; 
that founded on the resemblance of objects he calls the law of 
affinity. Thus all the laws of suggestion are reduced to two. 

The further question now arises, whether these two laws may 
not be reduced to one, inasmuch as their operation is the same. 
Is there not some principle more fundamental than either 13'ing 
at the basis of both ? Hamilton, answering this question in the 
affirmative, announces the law of redintegration; and Porter, 
3'et more clearl}' than Hamilton, explains the principle of this 
law. We have seen that ideas, as such, do not attract each 
other, and that their association must result from some power 
or tendency resident in the substance of the mind. Now a ten- 
dency in the mind to redintegrate, or render again complete, any 
complex state formerl}- experienced and now renewed in part, 
accounts satisfactoril}' for all the phenomena of suggestion. 

Of course, in one sense, no mental state or action can be the 
same as one previously experienced ; a past activity is gone, 
and cannot literally be recalled. Yet we style things the same 
when they are precisely similar ; and this especiall}- applies to 



Chap. XXIV.] PRIMARY LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 185 

our successive conceptions of the same object. In this way we 
speak of several persons having the same idea at the same time, 
and of one person having the same idea at successive times ; 
nor can the thought be readily expressed in any other way. 
The redintegration, therefore, or complete repetition, of a men- 
tal state is, strictly speaking, the completion of a state exactly 
similar to one previously entertained. 

A tendency to such redintegration explains alike the law of 
simultaneity and that of affinity. With respect to the former, we 
know that the mind, while perceiving or considering objects, 
can entertain several conceptions at the same time. Tiiis is 
true even when the objects may be presented, not at once, 
but in succession. In driving rapidly through the country, 
we remember what we have just seen, even while noticing new 
objects ; and in listening to an interesting speech, the leading 
thoughts of it are borne in mind as the orator progresses. Thus 
the mind, by a power of collection, adds to the natural multipli- 
city of present objects. Such being the case, we may hold that 
a number of conceptions are being constantly conjoined in the 
same exercise of energy. If any one of these be renewed, the 
redintegrating tendency, under the action of favorable conditions, 
will recall the rest, or at least some of them. 

This same tendency explains the law of affinity, though not 
so obviously as the law of simultaneity. When things have any 
community of nature, or are alike in any respect, our concep- 
tions of them necessarily possess a certain common part or ele- 
ment. Hence, in thinking of any object, we partially reform 
the conception of an}^ other similar object which we have previ- 
ously seen. The redintegrating power lays hold on the part of 
the conception thus renewed, and by means of it recalls the 
whole idea. The portrait of Sir Philip Sidney brings to one's 
mind that of Queen Elizabeth, for no other reason than that Sir 
Philip wore ruffles. His ruffles suggest those of the queen ; 
these again, through the law of simultaneity, suggest her coun- 
tenance and entire appearance. We accept redintegration as 
the radical regulative principle of reproductive thought. 

At the same time difficulty may often be expected in the 
application of this principle to the explanation of particular in- 
stances. Frequently intermediate thoughts are unnoticed or 
unexpressed. In such cases the missing links of the associa- 
tion can be supplied only from conjecture. Hobbes, the great 
philosophical supporter of absolute monarch}^ gives an illustra- 
tion of the natural succession of our ideas, not more remarkable 
than may be constant^ met with in the experience of daily life, 
yet remarkable for this, that the inaccurate explanation of it by 



186 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXIV. 

that distinguished man has been quoted with approval in all the 
leading works of mental philosoph}^ since his time. Some 
one, he says, in a conversation regarding that civil war which 
ended in the decapitation of Charles the First, asked abrupt]}^ 
" AYhat was the value of a Roman denarius ? " Hobbes's explana- 
tion is that of a true absolutist. He supposes that the circum- 
stances of treacher}' and wrong attending the death of the king 
suggested those attending the death of our Saviour ; that these 
again suggested the thirt}' pieces of silver for which our Lord 
was betra3'ed ; and that then the thought of Roman mone}' in 
general suggested the denarius. Is it not more lil^elj that the 
interrogation had reference to that incident in our Saviour's life 
when he said, ''Show me a penny" (that is, a denarius), and 
when he enjoined obedience to lawful rulers ? If this be so, the 
state of the man's mind may have been that of inquir}^ as to 
the righteousness of the king's condemnation, and not the deep 
disapproval which Hobbes supposes. But whichever explana- 
tion be adopted, either will illustrate and confirm the law already 
given, the radical law of suggestion, — namely, that the mind 
tends to redintegrate any complex state which it ma}' have 
already experienced, and which it ma}' have partially renewed. 

4. This radical law of association brings to view the intimate 
connection subsisting between the powers of attention, acquisi- 
tion, and suggestion. These powers are so united in operation 
that no modes of sequence are possible in the suggestion of 
ideas which have not been preceded by corresponding modes of 
co-existence while the ideas have been contemplated and ac- 
quired. The principle of redintegration is simpl}' the specific 
statement that the tendenc}' resulting from the exercise of en- 
erg}' in acquisition and attention is a tendency not simply to 
the renewal of an activity at some future time, but to the renewal 
of a complex activity in its several parts. 

It is, however, to be noted that the entire redintegration of a 
past mental state seldom^ -perhaps never ^ takes place. Some 
of the more prominent conceptions belonging to such a state 
may be revived, and may, before they depart, be the means of 
recalling others. The greater portion of our thoughts pass from 
us into utter oblivion ; often even circumstances or particulars 
which have been of special interest are not brought to mind in 
connection with the thought of an object or event. Conflicting 
suggestive tendencies are continually striving, with varying 
success, for the control and use of our mental energy; in addi- 
tion to which the current of reproductive thought is constantly 
checked, interrupted, or turned into some new channel, by the 
stronger activity of immediate cognition. Thus the actual 



Chap. XXV.] SECONDARY LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 187 

operation of the red integrative tendency is simply to reproduce 
from past thought selections which find in our present thinkings 
the opportunity to renew old companionships. 



CHAPTER XXV. 

THE SECONDARY LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 

1. The character of the trains of thought supplied by 
associaTfonai the suggestive powcr differs greatly in different per- 
orthrsec^' sons, and in the same person at different times. Let 
ondaryiaws us consider the causes of this difference. These 
Tifr^el^priir"' may be indicated by saying that redintegration, the 
cipai second- primary law of association, is constantl}^ modified by 
ary aws. secondary laws, which ma}' be called the laws of asso- 
ciational preference. We shall state and discuss the more 
important of these. 

First, then, we say that tJie tendency to redintegration is 
greater or less according to the amount of intellectual energy 
with which any conjunction of ideas may have been previously 
entertained. This law, like the one which it qualifies, operates 
from our prior thinkings, and may be directl}^ inferred, as a 
corollarj^, from the law of redintegration ; for if the original 
energy of a mental state provides a tendenc^y to its complete 
restoration, on the occasion of any allied thinking, it is easy to 
see that this tendenc\' will be greater or less in proportion to the 
amount of energy originall}^ exercised. 

That some such principle operates, is evident from certain 
classes of phenomena which have been carefully noted by philos- 
ophers. For example, objects are more likely to be recalled 
which have occupied the mind for a considerable length of time. 
The traveller who beholds the wonderful cataract of Niagara, and 
who fears that he may never see it again, gazes long on the 
majestic spectacle, that he may keep a picture of it in his mind. 
Again, it is a trite remark that attention adds to the retentive- 
ness of memory, and in most persons is necessar}' to any con- 
siderable acquisition. In vain we read the noblest authors and 
hear the ablest speakers if we hear and read without attention. 
Interest in an}^ object or event fixes it in our remembrance, be- 
cause in this way our regards have been centred upon it. So, 
also, repetition of a thought commits it to the memory. Few have 



188 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXV. 

that marvellous facult}^ which receives and retains without an 
effort long discourses, and even long lists of unconnected names 
and dates. Most of us use the aid of repetition, as school-bo^'s 
do when the}^ learn rules and verses. These and similar state- 
ments set forth cases in which a considerable amount of energy 
is exercised, either at once or in successive efforts, upon some 
given combination of thoughts. 

Moreover, it is evident that only the more prominent thoughts 
in a combination recall one another, the reason being that the 
energy of attention has been given to them and their mutual 
relations. The remaining thoughts, having been neglected, 
are forgotten. It is to be noticed, also, that circumstances 
which detract from the energy of attention lessen our ability 
to recall. Nervous excitement or mental agitation weakens 
both our first perception of objects and our subsequent recollec- 
tion of them ; and things which have been seen only among 
other interesting sights are not readily remembered, the energy 
of attention having been divided and diminished. 

Another law, subordinate to the radical principle of redin- 
tegration, may be thus announced : The suggestive power acts 
more or less readily according to the degree of the coincidence of 
the reproducible thought with one's 'permanent intellectual ten- 
dencies^ whether naturcd or acquired. No fact is more patent 
than that men from their very birth differ in their mental endow- 
ments and inclinations. This difference, too, increases during 
their subsequent lives. Not only some men are born poets,^but 
others just as trul}^ are born artisans, men of business, orators, 
philosophers, statesmen. These differences pertain, not merely 
to the tastes and motive dispositions of men, but to the very 
cast of their intellectual faculties. One essential qualification 
for successful business is the ability to remember everj^ neces- 
sary item just when it ought to be remembered. How unfitted 
for such a task is the poet, whose mind rejects the real and 
practical, and continually pursues the creations of his fantasy ! 
The philosopher, who seeks to know causes, effects, laws, prin- 
ciples, and systems, in the general, thinks of instances only as 
related to principles, and allows the special facts and practical 
details, with which the statesman deals, to slip his mind. Oc- 
casionall}^ some intellect combines such contrasted characteristics 
as are generall}^ separated ; then we see the man of varied and 
versatile talent. Ordinaril}^ every mind has a peculiar bent of 
its own. These remarks maybe abundanthMllustrated from the 
more successful works of dramatic authors ; for a certain uni- 
formity of character may be seen to pervade the thoughts, no 
less than the deeds, of the several persons in the play. When 



Chap. XXV.] SECONDARY LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 189 

a permanent general tendenc}', whether constitutional or ac- 
quired, unites its power with that of a specific reproductive 
tendenc}', a special readiness is manifested for some particular 
line of thought. Such is the operation of this law. 

A third subordinate law of suggestion is that lapse of time 
tends to weaken the association of our ideas. We ma}' ques- 
tion whether au}^ power diminishes and is lost through the mere 
circumstance of its being unexercised. An ounce of gunpowder, 
perfectl}^ dry, hermeticallj' sealed, and enclosed in an impervious 
case, would probably display precisely the same amount of ex- 
plosive and expansive force at the end of one thousand 3'ears as 
on the day of its being put awa3\ But in the great majority of 
instances, an unexercised power grows weak, probably through 
the abstraction of its energy in the exercise of other related 
powers which operate in other waj'S. Thus the quality of wood 
as fuel becomes totallj- lost through that gradual process of de- 
cay which reduces it to vegetable mould. 

Something like this may occur in the mind. There is no 
doubt that names, faces, facts, and particulars casuall}' noticed 
are remembered but for a short time. After a week or a 
month or a year they are lost and forgotten. For a season 
they recur occasionally, and are easily recalled ; but one by 
one they disappear and become to us as if the}- had never been. 
This ma}- be accounted for, in part at least, by a kind of absorp- 
tion of energ}^ from the reproductive tendencies through the use 
of it in the action of allied potencies, and by the comparatively 
low place, in the rank of recollectible ideas, to which tendencies 
thus weakened are reduced. They may not become wholl}'' ex- 
tinguished, — a faint capability of revival may remain ; but 
they are excluded from consciousness through the activit}^ of 
more powerful competitors. Whether an}^ acquisition of the mind 
can be so utterly lost as not to be reproducible in another state 
of being, and under specially favorable and stimulating condi- 
tions, is a question upon which we shall not now enter. 
A notable ^^ must, howcvcr, noticc an exception to the law 

exception to that reproductive tendencies grow weak through lapse 
pTainea by" of time. Aged persons generally remember the events 
the stronger ^j^^^ sccncs of their carlv days more vividly than those 

operation 01 ■,.„ 1 A ^ • -y j. 

others. of their subsequent life, or those even 01 their latest 

experience. The explanation of this phenomenon depends on 
the principle that one law of suggestion may be counteracted 
by another. We have already seen how earnestness of attention, 
frequency of repetition, and depth of interest, by increasing the 
amount of intellectual energy originally exercised, create a strong 
reproductive tendency. 



190 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXV. 

The operation of these causes in earty life is beautifully de- 
lineated b}^ President Porter. He says: "The objects and 
events of childhood were contemplated % the mind at first with 
an almost exclusive and absorbing attention. The few persons 
that stand out in so bold rehef from the background of Ufe 
when life is reviewed, filled its entire foreground when life was all 
in the future ; for they were the only persons with whom the 
child was brought in contact. The memorable occurrences of 
childhood were the absorbing subjects of thought for days before 
they occurred. They were often reviewed with fond reflection 
after they were past. The learning to count ten or one hundred, 
the wearing of a certain dress, the beginning of school lite, the 
long-anticipated, the often reviewed and recited visit to some 
relative, the first considerable journe}', the first party, the first 
composition, were most important occurrences in their time, and 
spread themselves over a large portion of the horizon of the 
infant life." Such is a true picture of the activity- of the intellect 
in the freshness of its 3-outh. The causes productive of this ac- 
tivity are wanting in later life, and particularly in old age. Even 
in business men often give just so much consideration to trans- 
actions as may be necessarj^, and then immediately dismiss them, 
that other aff*airs may likewise receive attention. It is not to 
be wondered at that earlier impressions maintain a pre-eminence 
amid others which, though recent, are inherentl}' so weak. 

Besides, here, as in most cases of ascendency, the more potent 
energies renew and prolong their reign. While past events 
themselves may be long separated from us, those thoughts by 
which we recall them ma}^ have been entertained frequently 
throughout life ; so that the strength of a present recollection 
ma}'' be in part derived from an experience not very distant. 
This cause of prolonged memor}^ operates not only in regard to 
the events of childhood and youth, but also in regard to any 
events which may deepl}' interest us and which we ma}' after- 
wards recall. The aged soldier who has participated in hard- 
fought battles easily recounts the incidents which he has described 
so often. He 

" Shoulders his crutch, and shows how fields were won." 

The retired lawyer gives the details of some great contest in 
which, years ago, he conquered a proud place in his profession. 
The statesman sets forth accurately that political situation in 
which he first rose to eminence, or in which, in some signal way, 
he was enabled to serve his country. 

We have now mentioned three general laws modifying the 
exercise of the associative power. They operate, respectively. 



Chap. XXV.] SECONDARY LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 191 

from previous energy of thought, from permaneyit intellectual 
habits^ and from the gradual abstraction of energy through the 
operation of tendencies allied to those thus weakened. 

Other modif3'ing laws beside these might be named. For 
example, it is evident that suggestion, in common with our 
other mental powers, exhibits various degrees of vigor or of 
debility, as a result of health or sickness, rest or fatigue, and 
other physical conditions, which affect the life of the human 
spirit. There ma^', in fact, be as man}^ subordinate laws as 
there are general causes to modify the operation of the fun- 
damental law. But the principal laws are those which we 
have discussed. 
^, , „ 2. When we remember that the associative prin- 

Tlie law of . -4? \ • 

habit in its ciple rcsults irom a prior exercise of energ}', and is a 
the^^sugges- tendency to the repetition of a prior act, it is evident 
tion of" that the law of redintegration is intimately related 
The opfnions to the law of habit Some difference has existed in 
of Reid and regard to the precise nature of this relation. Reid re- 
marks : " I believe that the original principles of the 
mind, of which we can give no account but that such is our con- 
stitution, are more in number than is commonly thought. But 
we ought not to multiply them without necessit}'. That trains 
of thinking which, by frequent repetition, have become famiUar 
should spontaneous!}^ offer themselves to our fancy seems to 
require no other original quality but the power of habit." 

On the other hand, Stewart, having quoted these words, says : 
" With this observation I cannot agree, because I think it more 
philosophical to resolve the power of habit into the association 
of ideas than to resolve the association of ideas into habit.'* 
This opinion of Stewart is untenable. Even allowing, what 
appears likel_y, that eveiy habit contains an intellectual element, 
and that this originates from the repetition of conceptions 
through the action of the suggestive power, it is clear that all 
habits, save those w^hich regulate thought only, include addi- 
tional elements which cannot be accounted for by the association 
of ideas. Take habits of anger or of calmness, or those of de- 
cision or of irresolution, of perseverance or of endurance. While 
these involve certain recurring modes of thought, do they not 
consist 3'et more in certain activities of spirit which, through 
exercise, have grown into strong motivities? 

As to Reid's statement, we allow that the spontaneous return 
of ''trains of thought which, b}^ frequent repetition, have be- 
come familiar," may be regardecl as the manifestation of a habit 
formed by the intellect. Yet we would rather say that habit 
and the suggestion of ideas originate in the same general prin- 



192 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXV. 

ciple of psj'chical life than that this suggestion is simply one 
mode of habit. The common principle at the basis of both is 
that every spiritual exercise leaves in the soul a tendency to its 
repetition. This tendenc}' is produced, as we especial!}' perceive 
in many associations of thought, even when the exercise may 
have been onlj^ once experienced. J^ut ice do not call such a 
tendency a habit, tcnless it both result from many similar ex- 
periences^ and is causative of frequent repetitions. Suggestion 
cannot be resolved into habit, nor habit into suggestion ; but 
the}' are closely related through a common origin. 
The term ^^* ^^ dwell for a moment on the term " habit," 

"iiabit" which, because of its various meanings, may be the 
ebne , ground of some confusion. This word is the exact 
Latin equivalent of the Greek e^t?, which signifies "a holding," or 
" a holding of one's self," — that is, the condition of anything as 
to its internal state, or constitution. In this sense we j'et speak 
of nervous, phlegmatic, healthful, and diseased habits of the 
bod}'. Ordinarily, however, the term signifies a tendency ac- 
qui'red by rep^etition^ and causative of the frequent performance 
of some action. We speak of habits of study, of industry, of 
thought, of virtue. This is the meaning in which we have used 
the word while inquiring whether every suggestive potency is a 
habit. Finally, we apply the term, not to the tendency, but to 
the action, or mode of action., residting from it, considered as 
thus resultant. AYe say it was his habit to study earnestly, to 
take snuff", to speak loudly. To express this meaning the word 
" custom " is often employed ; and in this signification a habit or 
custom diff'ers but little from a practice, the distinction being 
that the latter does not suggest the existence of a corresponding 
tendency. 

The notion of facility naturally connects itself wdth that of 
habit, and is sometimes suggested by it, but is not included in 
it. We cannot agree with Professor Stewart, who defines habit 
as an acquired facility, and who says that "the dexterity of 
the workman, the fluency of the orator, the rapidity of the ac- 
countant," are habits ; they are rather results accompanying 
habits. 

Diff'erences of view exist as to the extent of the oflSce of the 
suggestive power. The associationalists make this power the 
source of all our ideas save those which may be regarded as im- 
pressions from without ; and they account for belief and memory, 
judgment and reasoning, by the union of associated conceptions. 
The formation of such doctrines arises from a superficial analysis 
of the facts of intellectual life, from an undue desire for sim- 
plicity, and from a disposition to interpret the laws of spii-it by 



Chap. XXV.] SECONDARY LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 193 

a reference to those of matter. No views could be more re- 
pugnant either to the common judgment of men or to severe 
philosophical inquiry-. 

At the same time we should mark the pervading influence of 
the suggestive power. While association does not of itself form 
new conceptions or convictions, nor even anal3'ze and combine 
those alreadj' in possession, it is the agenc}^ through which past 
thinkings are made present, and from which our higher faculties 
receive the greater part of the materials which VnQy elaborate. 
AVithout this power of suggestion, memor}- and recollection, fan- 
tasy and imagination, and the processes of reason could never 
be experienced. 

Association 3. Somc writers confine the operations of the asso- 
?o Vdeas^of ciativc powcr to thoughts which have only an acci- 
accidentai dental Connection with each other, referring to some 
KantT'^^°^ other faculty suggestions which make use of the neces- 
Bruckner. gavy relations of things. Kant limits the "law of 
association " to " empirical ideas." Bruckner, the earnest dis- 
ciple of Leibnitz, defines association as ' ' non qusevis naturalis 
et necessaria idearum conjunctio, sed quae fortuita est, aut per 
consuetudinem vel affectum producitur, qua ideas, quae nullum 
naturalem habent inter se nexum, ita copulantur, ut, recurrente 
una, tota earum catena se conspiciendam intellectui pr^ebeat." 
The question might be regarded as one of terms, though it may 
also be used in support of the theory that a certain class of our 
ideas suggest each other aside from an}^ previous association. 

To us such a doctrine seems not absurd, 3'et uncalled for. 
Conceptions whose connection, as setting forth a true necessit}^, 
has a necessitudinal reference, when once conjoined in the mind, 
ma}' thereafter suggest each other in preciseh' the same wa}" as 
those which have merely an accidental connection. There is no 
good reason to question that they may and do suggest each 
other under the law of redintegration. This is a suflftcient ac- 
count of those associations whereby we are enabled to reason 
from cause to efi'ect and conversel3% b}- applying that knowl- 
edge of laws which we have obtained from experience. Seeing 
the outside of a book, the printing on its pages is suggested ; 
whereupon judgment adopts this conception and asserts its truth. 
Even our notions of those things which are connected b}^ abso- 
lute, or ontological, as distinguished from empirical, necessity, 
suggest each other according to the ordinary law of association, 
and need no other law to explain their conjunction. 

This principle does not account for their first union, nor for 
the first production of any intuitional conceptions and convic- 
tions. These originate in the immediate perceptions of the 

13 



194 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XX VI. 

mind. Afterwards, however, redintegration may reproduce them 
together in memory and in imagination. Thus, in noticing 
any action, we at once perceive it not simplj^ as an action, but 
as the action of some power residing in some substance ; after 
which, even in dreaming, action, power, and substance are mu- 
tuall}' suggestive. 

But should an}' think that one of these ideas would suggest 
another without such previous perception, — that it would do so 
by reason of the ver}' constitution of the intellect, — this may be 
allowed as probable or, at the least, credible ; to this extent 
only, Kant's doctrine of the intuitions might be accepted. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

ANALYSIS AND SYNTHESIS. 

Defined and 1 • ANALYSIS and S3'nthesis are two modes of mental 
PeitSifim- activity wMch are to be distinguished from thought, 
mediately to but which constantly take place in connection with 
noHo'cT' thought and with belief. They affect equally the 
jects. woriiing of these primarj- powers, because belief is 

experienced only as an attachment of thought. The terms 
'^ anal3'sis " and " S3'nthesis" are the Greek equivalents of the 
Latin resolutio and compositio ; the^^ literall}^ signify " a tak- 
ing apart" and " a putting together." So far as the intrinsic 
meaning of the words is concerned, analysis and synthesis might 
express an\^ kind of separation and of union. In chemistry 
analysis is the actual separation, for scientific purposes, of any 
compound substance into its material elements ; and, for aught 
we see, an}^ actual uniting of elements so as to form a compound 
might be called a S3mthesis. 

Ordinarih', however, in philosophy these expressions refer to 
a kind of sundering and joining in thought of the elements or 
constitutive imrts of things. In other words, anal3'sis is the 
separating of the conception of an object into the conceptions 
of its several parts ; while S3'ntliesis is the uniting of the con- 
ceptions of the several parts into that of the one object. Our 
conception of an ordinary triangle might be analyzed into those 
of a plane surface, of three straight sides, of three angles, and 
of certain special relations in which these things ma}' be and 
often are conjoined. Our conception of a pin might be resolved 
into those of a short stiff wire, of a head, of a point, of the 
mutual relations of these parts, and of the fitness of the little 



Chap. XXVI.] ANALYSIS AND SYNTHESIS. 195 

instrument for a certain use. Our conception of an apple may 
be decomposed into those of fruit, of a general size and shape, 
of certain contents of seeds and an eatable body enclosed within 
the smooth peel, of a peculiar taste and juiciness, and of the 
mutual relatedness of these elements. A sj'nthesis would take 
place when, from any of the foregoing descriptions, the notion 
of a triangle or a pin or an apple should be formed. Such a 
sj'nthesis giv^es a more perfect conception of the object than we 
can have without the preparator}^ analj'sis ; the expression of it 
in language is what we mean b}' logical definition. 

Ideas often admit of analysis when the objects of them can- 
not be literally taken to pieces. The sides of a triangle could 
never be removed from the plane surface so as to leave the lat- 
ter b}' itself; nor could the angles be removed from the sides. 
In defining a sphere we think of a solid body of a certain shape ; 
this shape could not exist in separation from the body. A vow 
is a promise made to God ; but in analj'zlng a vow, though we 
can think separately of the promise and of its direction, we can- 
not literall}' take them apart. The separation of parts or ele- 
ments, where it is possible, may assist analysis, but it is far 
from being the counterpart of the operation in the mind. If the 
constituents of a tree were so separated that one could see the 
roots in one place, the trunk in another, the branches and twigs 
in another, and the leaves in another, the ideas thus obtained 
would not give the analytic conception of a tree. There would 
be need to see, or to construct in imagination, a tree with all its 
parts in their proper relations to one another. Even chemical 
anal3'sis is so called by reference to an inward perception of 
elements, not as they may be in actual separation, but as they 
are in combination. It aims at that mental anal3'sis which 
would ascertain and separately consider the elements as they 
exist 171 their relations to each other in the compound. 

In short, b}' anal3'sis, we think separately of the parts or ele- 
ments of an object, but do not think of them as separated. On 
the contrary, we think of them as related and united to each 
other ; and this last conception, that of the mutual relation of the 
constituents, is often the most important result of our intellectual 
work. Let it be borne in mind that analysis and synthesis are 
operations which affect our ideas ; they are not operations which 
affect the objects of the ideas. Sometimes we speak of the 
anal^'sis of this or that object, — the analysis of some battle or 
some crime or some painting or some geographical territor3\ 
But this means only a detailed description — in other words, an 
analytic setting forth — of our conception of the object. 

Again, in analytic as well as in synthetic thought we think 



196 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XX VI. 

of all the elements of an object, including the relations of the 
parts to each other, at the same time. The difference is that in 
anal^'tic thinking we also regard each element successivel}^ with 
a special exercise of attention, while in S3'nthetic thought we do 
not do SO. In analysis we give separate but not exclusive at- 
tention to each element. Modern psychologj' teaches that the 
mind can think of more than one object at once. In synthetic 
conception we think of but one object composed of several parts ; 
in analytic conception we not onlj' think of the whole object, 
but also, and with a special exercise of energ}^, consider succes- 
sively each several part as related to the rest : we may even be 
said to think of two objects, the first being the analj'zed whole, 
and the second, each part as it is specialty considered. In anal- 
3'sis our attention is more or less drawn off' the whole to each 
part in its turn ; in synthesis it is more equally distributed. Yet 
we do not in anatysis give exclusive thought to an}' element, 
forgetful of its place in the whole ; when such exclusive thinking 
takes place, analysis has passed into abstraction. 

For this reason, and in strict accordance with the Greek deri- 
vation of the word, analysis might be defined " a loosening up," 
rather than an entire separation, of the elements of a compound 
notion. We cannot den}', however, that the conception of anal- 
3'sis ma}' be so enlarged as to include not only the first separa- 
tion of the constituent thoughts from one another, but also their 
entire abstraction into independent notions. The word is em- 
ployed sometimes in this secondary sense. Having analyzed 
the idea of ordinary milk into those of a fluid, — white, sweet, 
nourishing, secreted by the cow, and a common article of food, 
— we might say that the notions "fluid," "whiteness," "sweet- 
ness," "nourishment," "secretion," "food," were obtained by 
analysis from the conception "milk;" and this would be true 
though, in addition to analysis proper, abstraction was needed. 

From the nature of the case the analytic conception is not 
so instantaneous as the synthetic, because, in addition to the 
thought of the whole, it includes a successive attention to every 
part. When, after careful analysis, we reunite the parts of a 
notion, our thought is more perfect than it was at first. Our 
conception is freed from any obscurity or indistinctness. Never- 
theless, it is again properly styled synthetic. 
Analysis dis- 2. Again, let US uotc that analysis is not the divi- 
tinguisiied siou — that is, the logical division — of notions, and 
vision, and' syuthcsis is not the generalization of notions. Logi- 
synthesis g^j division takcs place when, by the successive addi- 

irom tue gen- . e> -y' nn • • -i ^ 

eraiization, tion 01 differences to some generic idea, we form 
ot ideas. yarious spccific couccptions. Certain differences 



Chap. XXVI.] ANALYSIS AND SYNTHESIS. 197 

being added to the notion " tree," we have the conceptions 
"oak," "beech," "fir," "elm/' "maple," "walnut," "ap- 
ple," " pear," " cherry," and so forth. Strictl}^ speaking, this 
is a division, not of the notion, but of the class of things to 
which the notion is applicable. So far from the idea ' ' tree " 
being divided into parts, it is used intact, and a new part is 
added to form each specific conception. This is a sj-nthetic, 
not an analj^tic, process. Many ancient logicians, however, 
used the word "analysis" to indicate this division of a genus 
into its species, and not the separation of a notion into its 
elements. This circumstance caused a confusion, from which 
the terminology of later times has been free. 

In like manner it is clear that S3^nthesis and generalization 
are not of the same nature. The latter process is the formation 
of the idea applicable to a class from the conceptions of species 
or individuals included in the class ; it is the formation of a 
general notion from specific or from singular notions. Such 
a process, had we no respect for a fixed usage, might be called a 
sjmthesis of the subordinate objects and ideas ; because, in pro- 
viding for the classification of different species and individuals, 
it figuratively unites the former under a genus, and the latter 
under a species. The formation of the notion " tree," from the 
conceptions "oak," "beech," "fir," "elm," and so forth, 
might be named a synthesis of these subordinate objects or 
ideas ; for it puts them in one class. Yet the formation of a 
general notion does not involve any literal S3'nthesis, or com- 
position, either of the objects or of the ideas. On the contrary, 
generalization involves the anal^'sis of singular and specific 
conceptions, so that their differences or peculiarities may be 
rejected, and their common part abstracted and retained. 

To stj'le generalization, or classification, " synthesis," is to ap- 
ply the term in a sense not only diff'erent from that in which it 
is ordinarily employed, but essentially the reverse of it. Such 
a use of language should be carefull}^ avoided. 
A unit de- 3- A better understanding of this topic may be 
fined. A obtained if we consider the nature of that unity 
posite'unit™' which analysis separates into a plurality of parts, and 
Four classes wMch is the foundation of the synthetic character of 

of wholes re- , ^. t^ • .1 n 1 . 

suit from four ever}^ complcx notion, it is the oneness of what 
™ncei?ing^of Philosophers call the metaphysical v:hole. 
parts andV An objcct is One, or a unit, when it is a definitely 
^ ^•^^' distinguishable quantum of entity. Any entity abso- 
lutely indivisible, and which is without a plurality of parts or 
elements, can be thought of only as a unit. Almost all objects, 
however, are composite, and can be considered both as units 



198 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXVI. 

and as pluralities. A composite unit, using the term "com- 
posite" in the widest sense, is properl3' called a whole. 

The question now arises, Under what conditions does a plu- 
raht^^ of entities constitute a whole, so that we can think and 
speak of it as one? The answer is that a pluralit}' of things 
becomes one, or a whole, as being commordy and iniitiiaUy 
related ; and they are thought of as one, as a distinguishable 
quantum of entit}^ when, bj' reference to such relatedness, the 
mind can grasp them in one conception. 

In mental philosoph}^ the main points of difference between 
wholes do not concern the nature of the parts composing them, 
nor even the nature of the relations which unite the parts, though 
this last must be considered, but our mode of conceiving of the 
parts as related. The question whether or not, and in what 
sense, a whole is properl}' the subject of analysis and S3'nthesis, 
depends on a knowledge of the different wa^'s in which the mind 
conceives of parts in their relation to one another, and so may 
compose or decompose its conception of a whole. 
The collective With respect to this conception of parts, four wholes, 
ericwhofeT' ^^' classes of wholcs, claim our attention, two of which 
Not those are composed of parts indefinitely conceiA^ed, and two 

considered in „« „ ^ - i i n •. -i 

analysis and ^t parts conccivcd definitely. 

synthesis. Qf the two first mentioned, that one which is com- 

posed 3'et more indefinitel}' than the other may be styled the 
collective, or aggregate, whole. This emerges when things, 
however dissimilar and otherwise wanting in any noticeable di- 
rect relatedness, have a common relatedness to some entity, 
through which, of course, they are also related to each other. 
Things may be togetlier in place, in possession, or in time, or as 
objects of thought, as subjects of discourse, as conjoint causes 
or causal conditions, or as conjoint effects, or in an}^ other mode 
of assemblage. A citj', an inheritance, a generation, a historj^, 
a polic}', an administration, a variet}^, a plurality, considered as 
collections of objects which have a common relation, are aggre- 
gate wholes. Such wholes admit of the utmost diversit}^ among 
the parts ; for these need onh' have a common relatedness. 

The other indefinitely composed whole is the generic, or logi- 
cal. It arises when many individuals have a similarit}' of na- 
ture ; ever}' individual in such a class resembles every other in 
the class ; and thus all are commonl}" and mutualh' related. 
This whole, being founded on community' of nature, embraces 
every individual that may have the common nature, and ex- 
cludes all others. As a collection might consist of similar things, 
the logical whole might be considered a peculiar species of the 
collective ; but it is better to distinguish these wholes by con- 



Chap. XXVL] ANALYSIS AND SYNTHESIS. 199 

fining the term " collective" to wholes whose composition is not 
conceived of as based exclusivel}'^ on the relation of similarity. 
The conception of a collection of things may be distinguished 
from that of a kind of things, because the former is never based 
simpl}' on similarity of nature. 

The generic, or logical, whole is seen whenever we think of any 
genus or species of things as comprising individuals, or subor- 
dinate classes. Mankind, the horse, civil government, thought, 
words, blows, and every conceivable kind of a thing, are logical 
wholes. 

Our idea either of a generic or of a collective whole is not 
obtained by a synthesis of our conceptions of its parts ; and our 
ideas of the parts severally are not obtained from an anal^'sis 
of our conception of the whole. On the contrar}^ in conceiving 
of these wholes, the parts are referred to indefinitely, as things 
subject to the constitutive relations ; which reference may be 
regarded as the result of an analysis, or abstraction. And our 
specific, or singular, ideas of the parts of an}^ such whole are 
not included in the conception of the whole as such. They are 
either given at first together with the conception of the whole, 
or, if subsequently formed, are obtained b}' a s^'nthesis which 
successively distinguishes the different parts b}^ the addition of 
differences, or accidents, to the common character. Such being 
the case, it is plain that the separation of a lohole into its parts 
by analysis., and the uniting of parts into a lohole by synthesis, 
do not take place in relation to collective and generic wholes., but 
that these processes must pertain to wholes of another nature. 
Thecompo- ^- Let US cousidcr those wholes which consist of 
^lathemati ^^^^^^^^^J conceivcd-of parts. By this we do not mean 
cai; and the that their parts are conceived of without any indeter- 
metephj^si'-^^ mination (such exactitude seldom or never occurs in 
cai, whole, tliought) , but oul}' that they are conceived of with a 
fompSon deflniteness which does not belong to mere collections 
from {fuai^S^ ^'■^ ^^^^^^^ ^^ thiugs. In common language, when a 
and syn- '' wholc is Contrasted with a total, we distinguish the 
thesis. definitely from the indefinitely composed whole ; but 

aside from this contrast, the term "whole" is not restricted in 
this wa\', nor is the contrast found in ancient usage. 

Definite wholes are of two kinds, and may be distinguished as 
the compositional, or mathematical ; and the elemental, or meta- 
phj'sical. The}^ differ from those alreadj' considered in this, that 
the ideas of the parts enter into the conception of the whole with 
more or less deflniteness as to the number and specific character 
of the parts. This is not the case with collections and kinds of 
things. They agree with these wholes in this, that the parts of 



200 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXVL 

every whole are commonly related. A tree considered as com- 
posed of roots, trunk, branches, and leaves is a whole of definite 
conception ; and these parts are united as participating in a com- 
mon nature, as being together in space, and as forming a s^'stem 
of growth and reproduction. The common relatedness connect- 
ing the parts ma}' not be so prominent and noticeable as other re- 
lations which belong to parts speciall}^ ; yet it is always sensibly 
present, and may be discovered by careful inspection. Every part 
of an animal is related to the life of the animal ; everj' part of a 
chair to sitting ; all the parts of a stone to the size, hardness, 
and coherency of the bod}^ formed by them ; every detail of a 
plan or business undertaking is subordinate to a common end or 
result ; every part of a geometrical figure is united to every 
other through a contiguity within definite spatial limits, as also 
by a community of nature ; everj' moment in an hour, and every 
3'ear in a century, is connected, through contiguity of time, with 
every other part. 

Moreover, the parts of definite wholes generall}-, though not 
necessarily, exist in a fixed or systematic union, — that is, in such 
relations that they could not change places without destroying 
the constitution of the whole. Hence the peculiar relations of 
each part often enter prominently into our conception of the 
integral entity. Considering a tree as a whole composed of 
roots, trunk, branches, and leaves, the peculiar relations of each 
part to the rest enter into our very conception of the tree. This 
is never the case with the indefinite wholes. 

The compositional, or mathematical, whole consists of parts 
which can exist, and therefore can he ^conceived to exist, apart 
from one another in space or in time. A human bod}', as com- 
posed of head, arms, trunk, and legs ; a man, as made up of 
soul and bod}' ; a ton-weight, as containing twenty hundreds ; 
a sentence, as embracing a number of words ; a square, as 
formed by the exact juxtaposition of two equilateral right-angled 
triangles, — are examples of this whole. We call it compositional, 
because it may be conceived of as formed by the composition, 
or putting together, of suitable parts, according to their appro- 
priate relations ; it has been called mathematical, not because 
its parts always admit of quantitative determination, but because 
it is the only kind of whole about which and the parts of which 
mathematical reasonings are ever employed. 

Some, in defining this whole, say that " every part of it lies out 
of every other part ; " it is more exactly to the purpose to say 
that the parts are such as may exist separately. Should we de- 
scribe two equal circles with centres connected by a semi-diameter, 
the resulting figure would be a mathematical whole composed of 



Chap. XXVI.] ANALYSIS AND SYNTHESIS, 201 

two circumferences, though these would not he out of each other. 
In hke manner a nest of boxes, in which one smaller box after 
another is placed in the box next larger than itself, is a whole in 
which the parts do not lie out of one another. When things are 
separable in space or in time, the,y are easil}' considered and con- 
ceived of separateh^ ; this is a characteristic of the parts of the 
compositional whole. The different notes of a musical chord 
take place together, but they ma}' be produced separately, and 
are therefore easy of separate conception. A walk, a speech, 
a fight, are easily decomposed as being wholes whose parts occur 
in succession. 

The process of thinking separatel}' of the parts of a mathe- 
matical whole is often called analysis^ while that of forming a 
conception of such a whole ma}', with some propriet}-, be styled 
synthesis. But when precision is desirable, it would be better 
to term these processes the partition and the composition of 
conceptions, reserving the terms " anal3'sis " and "s3'nthesis" 
for modes of action in which a more searching and penetrating 
kind of thought is employed. 

This brings us to mention the metaphj'sical, or elemental, 
whole, as that with which, speaking strictly and precisely, anal- 
3'sis and s^'nthesis are concerned. The human mind, in its 
natural judgments and thinkings, often distinguishes things from 
each other, which can have no separate existence in space or in 
time, and which yet are recognized as truly different in nature. 
Action cannot exist separately from power, nor change from 'ac- 
tion, nor quantity from entit}', nor substance from qualitv, nor 
relations from their relata; jet these things can be separately 
thought of. A whole considered as composed in ciny measure 
of such inseparable parts is lohat we call a metaphysical^ or ele- 
mental^ whole. It is metaph3'sical, because those elements and 
relations speciall3^ perceived in its analysis form the data of that 
science which seeks the ultimate in thought and in being ; it 
is elemental, because elements, as distinguished from parts, 
are brought to view in its anal3^sis. 

A satisfactor3" knowledge of an3' subject commonly demands 
that it should be considered as a metaph3'sical whole. Only 
in this wa3' can we determine the ultimate elements of a thing 
and their relations. Elemental analysis, also, is necessary to that 
defined and perfected conception of a thing in which our concep- 
tions of its parts are properl3' co-ordinated and combined. 

The various wholes which have now been mentioned are not 
so opposed to each other that the3' could not exist in, or be com- 
posed out of, the same unchanged set of materials. On the con- 
trary, the same set of objects — as, for example, the human race 



202 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXVI. 

— might constitute a collective, a generic, a mathematical, and a 
metaphysical whole. But these wholes differ as to the nature of 
the relations according to which the}' exist or are constructed, and 
as to our conceptions of them derived from a diverse contempla- 
tion of constitutive relations. The}' are exclusive of each other 
as the conditions of different modes of mental action ; and it is 
also to be noticed that the same set of objects are not often con- 
ceived of as composing both an indefinite and a definite whole. 

The descriptions given above, particular!}' of the metaphysical 
whole, differ somewhat from those to be found elsewhere. They 
are, however, wdiat the philosophy of mental action demands ; in 
which philosophy we find the principal, if not the only, use for 
such descriptions. 

, . , Our chief purpose, in treating of this general sub- 
syntiiesis ject, has been to distinguish and define the metaphysi- 
tfi?meS- cal whole. The conception of tliis whole is the 
piaysicai ordinary form of our conception of anything as a 
^ ^^' unit, and is the basis of all our ordinary conceptions 

of things. Moreover, it is from the analysis of an object as 
being a whole of this sort, that a thorough understanding of the 
nature of the object is to be obtained. The partition of the 
mathematical w^holc being restricted to the conceptions of sep- 
arable parts and the relations of these as such parts, is far 
less searching than the analysis of the metaphysical whole. 
Not merely all philosophy, but also all clear and satisfactory 
thinking, involves elemental, or metaphysical, analysis, together 
■with the synthesis which is conditioned thereupon. 

The analytic ^- ^^^ *^^^^ connection we may consider two opposite 

and tiie methods employed in philosophy, each of which has its 

synthetic proper use. The one has been styled the anahjlic, or 
methods in ^ ■"■ • ,1 .1 ,1 .7 j- • t \i. 

pliilosophy. regressive; the other the synthetic, or progressive. In the 

The terms former we first consider individual facts or instances, 
and^*^ pro- '^ and then ascend from these to general principles and con- 
gressive" ceptions. In the latter we begin with the statement and 
explained. explication of general principles and notions, and then de- 
scend from these to the specific and the individual. To state the 
matter in another way: in the analytic method we proceed from the 
complex to the simple, while in the synthetic we proceed from the sim- 
ple to the complex; for what is general is simple, while the specific 
and the singular are complex. 

The terms " regressive " and " progressive," as applied to the ana- 
lytic and the synthetic methods, may suggest that progress in philo- 
sophical knowledge is to be made by the latter method chiefly, and that 
the former is useful principally for the examination and attestation of 
results. Such views have been entertained, but th-^y are erroneous in 
the extreme. The true point of departure for sc'pntific progress is 
found, not in the simple and general, but in the complex and singular. 



Chap. XXVI.] ANALYSIS AND SYNTHESIS. 203 

Regress and progress, as applied above to philosophical methods, prop- 
erly refer only to certain logical orders of thought whereby we often 
naturally proceed from the general to the specific, or from the specific 
to the general; they do not at all indicate the order of original scien- 
tific investigation and construction. According to this latter order, 
the analytic might properly enough be styled a progressive, and the 
synthetic a regressive, mode of thinking. 

The analytic is the necessary method for all true progress in phi- 
losophy. It is the only means of correctly ascertaining the laws of any 
department of existence. Yet we are not to suppose that the only pro- 
cess employed in it is analysis. This is the radical source of its effi- 
ciency and value. But from time to time synthesis, marking relations 
between the principles secured by analysis, gradually builds them into 
a system, which, nevertheless, is to be regarded as the product of the 
analytic and not of the synthetic method. Frequently, also, in the 
course of our investigation, conjectures or hypotheses, essentially syn- 
thetic acts, assist our progress. 

The synthetic method is the reverse of the analytic. Setting out 
with general conceptions and principles, it combines them into others 
more complex. Such a method can have no value save so far as its 
general notions may be correct. Therefore it is not a proper method 
in cases in which principles are doubtful or but partially ascertained. 
Many systems of philosophy constructed on the synthetic method have 
secured wide acceptance through their wonderful ingenuity and con- 
sistency, yet are now regarded simply as remarkable phenomena in the 
history of the human mind. 

There are, however, two applications of the synthetic 
S^syntheUc ^lethod in which it may be employed to advantage. First, 
metiiod: it may and should be used in the more perfect systemati- 
1. To correct zation of any science whose principles have been analyti- 
the results of cally determined. That synthesis which necessarily attends 
the analytic any process of investigation is insufficient for the clearest 
To construct ^^'^ most exact apprehension of a number of related doc- 
systems of trines. This end calls for a careful review of results with 
pliiloso^li reference to their mutual relations, and an orderly arrange- 
ment of them with reference to these relations. In the syn- 
thesis of investigation we successively unite together special parts of a 
system, without being able to show definitely their relation to larger 
parts, or to the whole. We proceed like the first excavators of Pom- 
peii, who uncovered the several apartments of one house before pro- 
ceeding to those of another, and who localized their labors now at a 
temple, now at a theatre, now at a market-place. But in the synthesis 
of ultimate systematization, we clear the streets and openings between 
the buildings, and we gradually behold residences, temples, theatres, 
market-places, gardens, walls, and fortifications, in their proper propor- 
tions and locations. 

In connection with this synthesis of ascertained principles, impor- 
tant questions often present themselves, and many subordinate particu- 
lars also are determined. This systematizing synthesis, whereby the 
analytically ascertained principles of a subject are combined in outline, 
and less essential ideas, combinations, and discussions are introduced 



204 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXVI. 

afterwards, contributes greatly to render one's thought and knowledge 
exact and complete. Generally, also, it presents a better order for the 
communication of knowledge. 

Occasionally it may be better for the author of a system to present 
it in that order in which its parts have been constructed during 
analytic investigation. This order is always- possible, and it is ad- 
visable when the investigator would exhibit to others his conformity 
to philosophic methods. But the ordinary aims of instruction call for 
the synthetic order of thought, which therefore is sometimes called 
the didactic. It is in this didactic use that synthesis notably assumes 
a progressive character. For the learner receives first the leading 
principles of a system and their relations to each other, and after that, 
less important and more numerous details are presented under each 
head in succession. In this way he progresses rapidly and easily. 

Such is the first application of the synthetic method. Its aim is 
the co-ordination and presentation of principles which have been ac- 
quired by the method of analysis; it is merely an attachment and 
completion of the latter method. 

According to the second application of it we act independently of 
the analytic method, and directly construct a body of philosophy. 
This use can have place only w^hen a considerable number of principles 
are well known, and admit of being variously combined and applied. 
This is the case with the mathematical sciences, such as algebra and 
geometry, and with certain practical philosophies which constantly 
refer to the acquisitions of experience and common sense. Systems 
of ethics, of polite manners, of civil law, of political wisdom, of 
aesthetics, and of rhetoric have been constructed in this way. Cicero's 
excellent treatise, " De Officiis," is an example in point. Horace's 
" Ars Poetica " is another, but less perfect, illustration. Such systems 
serve a good purpose, though necessarily wanting in profundity. It is 
to be noticed that analysis is often used in the construction of them, 
not for the ascertainment of principles, but with the object of more 
exact definition and apprehension ; and thus analysis plays a second- 
ary part, just as synthesis does in the analytic method. 

From what has now been said, it will be seen that as regards pro- 
gress in philosophy, analytic w^ork alone secures new principles, and is 
the more important. Synthesis has a subordinate office. 

The analytic and synthetic methods are to be distinguished from 
the analytic and synthetic modes of thinking, by the predominance of 
one or the other of which they are respectively characterized. The 
chief object of the present discussion has been to explain the nature of 
these modes of thinking. This explanation has been found, first, in a 
power of the intellect to conceive of a plurality of objects at once and 
to think of them as one when they may be united by some system of 
relations; and, secondly, in the further power to think successively of 
each part or element of the plurality, while thinking also, though with 
less energy, of all the rest. From this it is plain that analysis is 
naturally consequent upon a special direction of the attention ; while 
synthesis naturally takes place when all the parts of a whole, together 
with their mutual relations, may be regarded with the same degree of 
mental energy^ 



Chap. XX VII.] ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. 205 



CHAPTER XXYII. 
ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. 

Substance and Attribute. 

1. Abstraction is the immediate ulterior result of an- 
Abstraction alysis. We may speak of the analysis of the mathematical 
result oP^^ whole, and so of the abstraction of any of its parts. Wher- 
analysis. ever analysis may take place, abstraction likewise is pos- 
ttfemeta-*^ sible. But synthesis and analysis proper belong to the 
physical, or metaphysical whole as such, not to the mathematical ; the 
elemental, synthesis and analysis of the latter being better distin- 
guished as composition and partition. In like manner 
abstraction proper belongs to the metaphysical whole only. The ab- 
straction of the part of a mathematical whole need not be distinguished 
by any special name other than mathematical abstraction ; it is not of 
philosophical importance. 

The reason on account of which the analysis and abstraction of the 
mind are directed to the parts of the metaphysical whole as such lies 
in the fact that the mental division of an object into its mathematical, or 
separahle, parts is not sufficient even for the ends of ordinary thought. We 
cannot from such a division adequately understand and express the 
nature of things. This purpose requires that we should consider and 
designate inseparable parts, such as powers, shapes, magnitudes, and 
attributes generally. The distinction, therefore, between mathe- 
matical and metaphysical wholes, and other distinctions to be made 
in connection with this one, though abstruse, are needful to a clear 
understanding of the workings of the intellect. The most subtile dis- 
criminations of philosophy are little else than the recognition and 
naming of distinctions which the mind naturally makes in its daily 
thinkings; and their importance arises from this fact. 

The word "element" — possibly the same, originally, 
defined?^ with "aliment" — is a terra which frequently occurs in 
philosophy. It signifies any of those parts of an object 
into which it is or may be separated by analysis, and which 
therefore may be separately considered by abstraction. The parts 
of the mathematical whole are improperly, while those of the meta- 
physical whole are properly, elements. When the term " element " is 
distinguished from, and contrasted with, the term " part," the latter 
refers to the mathematical, and the former to the metaphysical, whole. 
As analysis may take place in different ways, and may be more or less 
searching, till a result is reached beyond which no further analysis is 
possible, so the elements of an object may be diiferently conceived of 
and enumerated; but in every case the elements are those parts which 
analysis has* made the objects of distinct consideration. They may or 
they may not admit of other or further analysis. 



206 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXVII. 

In connection with the process of abstraction, that of 
define?aii(l conception, also, as the act of the mind in forming a com- 
iliustrated. pound or complex idea, may be considered. A notion of a 
d m?T*^^*^" thing may be formed by the composition of mathematical 
parts; and such a composition, in its relation to the object, 
might be spoken of as mathematical conception. Ordinarily, however, 
conception signifies the construction of a thought by means of the 
synthesis of the parts of a metaphysical whole. This may take place 
without preceding analysis, various constituent perceptions imme- 
diately uniting themselves so as to form one idea; but our more 
perfect notions follow upon a careful analysis of the ideas first en- 
tertained by us, and this is the only way in which clear and satis- 
factory ideas can be formed. 

That conception is the synthesis of a metaphysical whole is evident 
in the case of objects not naturally thought of as composed of sepa- 
rable parts. The idea of an ivory ball is formed from the elementary 
thoughts, — a ball, white, hard, smooth, made from the tusk of an ele- 
phant, and fitted for use in certain games. A person having obtained 
these thoughts, either by his own observation or from the description 
of others, would unite them by a more or less rapid synthesis. It is 
plain that they are the parts of a metaphysical whole. 

But even in the case of objects easily viewed as mathematical 
wholes, our notions are ordinarily formed by synthesis and not by 
composition. A tree may be considered as composed of roots, trunks, 
branches, twigs, leaves, and fruit, as separable parts; but our idea of 
a tree is not formed by the mental composition of these parts as in 
certain relations to each other. After one had seen the separable 
parts of a tree, he would indeed think of them as included within the 
object; but his conception would also embrace various elements char- 
acterizing the tree as a whole. He would regard it as a material body, 
as a vegetable growth of a certain size and height, and as capable of 
reproducing its kind by a certain process. These thoughts would 
enter into his conception as metaphysical parts. Therefore the tree 
as a whole would be viewed as a metaphysical and not as a mathe- 
matical whole ; for the former exists when any of the parts conceived 
of in the analysis and synthesis are incapable of separate existence, 
whether any of the remaining parts are such or not. 

From such instances it will appear that conception may be defined 
as that act or process of synthesis whereby ideas or notions of greater 
or less permanence are formed, — in other words, conception is a mode 
or species of synthesis; while abstraction is an act of analysis, diifer- 
ing, however, from mere analysis in that we entirely dismiss from our 
attention, and often from our thought, every part or element save that 
which has specially engaged our regard. 

Logical dis- 2. A peculiar difference is noticeable in the mind's 
tinguished method of conceiving and of abstracting, according as this 
absti-acUon^^ ^^^ ^^ more natural and accidental, or more methodical 
and concep- and logical. We therefore make a distinction between 
tion. what we may call natural, or informal, and what may be 

styled logical, or formal, abstraction and conception. In logical con- 
ception and abstraction an object is viewed as being substance and 



Chap. XXVIL] ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. 207 

attribute, — in other words, as being a thing with its qualities or char- 
acteristics. These modes of thought depend on the ability of the 
mind to distinguish a thing as a substance from the attributes by 
which it is constituted and characterized. But that style of abstract- 
ing and conceiving which we have termed natural^ and whicli is less 
refined and rationalized than the other, dispenses either wholly or in 
part with the distinction of substance and attribute, and deals with 
objects as immediately constituted by some other and less general 
relations. Logical abstraction may be considered as the extreme 
result of the exercise of the analytic power of the mind in its or- 
dinary workings; while logical conception is that synthesis which 
reunites the parts separated in logical abstraction. 

The formal processes of abstraction and conception are contrasted 
with the informal because tliey make use of that distinction of substance 
and attribute which can be applied equally to every entity^ or thing, what- 
ever be its specif c nature, and because they consider the parts or ele- 
ments of an object only so far as they lend character to the object as a 
whole; whereas the informal processes do not use that peculiar dis- 
tinction, but immediately think of the parts or elements as things 
having their own proper characteristics. Thus, in the logical way, 
we describe a triangle as a plane, triangular, three-sided figure; but 
in the natural, or less artificial, way we speak of it as a figure made 
up of a plane surface, three sides, and three angles. In tlie one case 
we use attributes or qualities as such; in the other, parts or elements, 
as distinguished from attributes. 

Logical conception and abstraction alone call for special considera- 
tion, for they only are ordinarily meant when we speak of abstraction 
and conception. Every important question concerning them is directly 
involved in the doctrine of substance and attribute; and as great con- 
fusion has hitherto attended the explanation of this doctrine, we may 
profitably make it the subject of a discussion. 

Before entering upon this, let us premise that, however 
disUnction^ difficult of analytical understanding the distinction between 
but not of' substance and attribute may be, it is not one for which the 
orMn'^^ science of metaphysics is originally responsible. It is a 

" ■ natural product of the mind. When a man thinks of a 

guinea, and speaks of its shape, size, color, value, usefulness, and so 
forth, and distinguishes these things from the guinea as having them, he 
is distinguishing a substance and its attributes from each other. All 
that the metaphysician does is to name and to explain the distinction. 
.^ „ J, . _ The bearing of this distinction upon the doctrine of ab- 
stract no- straction and conception may be presented in the following 
tionsof statements: first, that the logical conception of an object is 

substances foi'med when we unite to the idea of a substance or thing 
as well as of those of the attributes which properly belong to it; and, 
'^^^"it^^^^^ °^ secondly, that we form an abstract idea whenever we either 
abstract the notion of an attribute from that of an object, 
or the notion of an object from that of any one or more of its attri- 
butes. No one will dispute the first of these statements; but in 
regard to the second, it may be objected that we generally speak of 
the abstraction, not of substances or things, but of attributes only. 



208 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXVIL 

The fact alleged in this criticism must be admitted. At the same 
time the expression of philosophical truth calls for a use of the term 
"abstraction," according to which it may be applied to the ideas of 
substances as well as to those of attributes; for it can be shown that 
an act of precisely the same nature may take place in regard to the 
thing as in regard to its qualities. 

We allow that the power of abstraction is much more noticeably 
exercised about attributes than about the objects to which they belong, 
yet contend that it is employed about the latter also. Men often con- 
template an object in some special light or from some special point of 
view, rejecting from their thought other aspects and the attributes 
which they would bring before us. Regarding some book simply as 
ornamental, we say that it is a handsomely bound and finished volume; 
looking on it only as a collection of reading matter, we say that it is 
an octavo printed clearly, correctly, and on good paper; considering 
its contents, we say that it is an able and interesting w^ork. In each 
of these cases we abstract, not an attribute simply, but the ohject, as 
having certain attributes, from other attributes which also belong to it; 
and so far as the nature of the act itself is concerned, the abstraction 
of the object from one or more attributes differs not at all from the 
abstraction of one or more attributes from the object. 

When we consider some man as a citizen, as a son, as a husband, as 
a neighbor, or as a friend, we as much abstract him from character- 
istics foreign to the view we take of him, as we do his characteristics 
from him when we say that he is honest, or intelligent, or neighborly, 
or dutiful, or even when we say that he exhibits honesty, intelligence, 
neighborliness, or dutifulness. Hence, in ordinary speech, conceptions 
of high generalization, such as are employed in wide scientific state- 
ments, are often styled abstractions, or abstract thoughts; and this 
equally whether they refer to things or to attributes. Moreover, the 
abstraction of substances as well as of attributes is involved in the 
doctrine, which all admit and teach, that abstraction is needed to form 
any common or general notion, 

3. But here we must remark, in explanation both of 
stance de- ' "what has been said and of what we have yet to say, that 
fined. New the word "substance" in logical discussions, and when 
posed^^^" opposed to the word "attribute," has a meaning quite 
different from what belongs to it elsewhere. Often this 
term signifies a material entity as occupying space. We speak of 
water and clay as substances. In a wider sense it is applied to spirit 
and matter as the only known kinds of entity in which powers or 
active qualities reside. But the substance of luhich we now speak is 
anything ivhatever to which an attribute may be said to belong. In saying, 
"The length of the cable is immense," "The color of the rose is 
pleasing," " The skill of the orator is marvellous," the terms 
"length," "color," and "skill" stand for substances no less than 
the terms " cable," " rose," and " orator ; " for each of them admits 
of attributes. Indeed, since everything whatever that can exist must 
have attributes, and can be thought of as having them, everything 
may be regarded as a substance. 

There is an analogy between this and the less extended uses of 



Chap. XXVII.] ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. 209 

the term. As an ordinary substance, or any spiritual or material 
entity, is characterized by the powers belonging to it, so anything 
whatever is characterized by the attributes which may be predicated 
of it. But the wider meaning is plainly different from the more 
limited ones. Sometimes the phrase " logical substance " is used to 
distinguish the former. We think it would be well if some other word 
than " substance " could be employed in discussions like the present; 
and for this reason we may sometimes, instead of substance and attri- 
butes, use the terms " substantum " and " attributa." Even barbar- 
ous language is not to be utterly rejected, if it may contribute to 
clearness of thought. 

We may be aided to an exact understanding of the notions expressed 
by these terms, if we consider some other terms and notions which, as 
being closely allied to those under discussion, may, with them, be re- 
garded as the products and instruments of logical abstraction and 
conception. 

Entity form -^J entity we mean that which does or may exist. The essen- 
and matter ' tial nature of entity is simple and unanalyzable ; in saying 
defined. entity is that which exists, we define it from its property, 

not from its essential nature, just as we define air by saying that it is 
that which animals breathe. Existence is a mark i'or entity, though 
it is not a mark for anything less general than entity. Whatever 
exists is an entity. Whatever is supposed to exist is an hypothetical 
entity. Whatever may exist is a possible entity. 

Entity might also be defined, by its relation to our thought, as tliat 
ofivhich, or as if of which, loe can conceive in any way ; or it might be 
illustrated and determined by enumerating its principal genera, — of 
which more presently. The word "entity" means the same as the 
word " thing " in its widest use. 

We may think of things, or objects, or entities, without thinking of 
them as existing. We may do this with respect to any particular 
entity, and also with respect to entity in general. In a previous 
chapter we styled entity, as thought of without reference to its exist- 
ence, form, and our conception of it formal thought. In the present 
discussion the word "form" will be used in a somewhat different 
sense from the foregoing; and our remarks will apply to entity whether 
conceived of as existing or without reference to its existence. Entity, 
or that which exists, in general, or any entity, may be considered in two 
ways. First, we may regard it without thought of the distinctions between 
the particular or specific entities included in it; in which case we may 
name it simple entity, or entity per se, or matter, or materia prima. Sec- 
ondly, we may conceive of it as being, or as consisting of, distinguishable 
entities ; then, and so far as it is thus considered, we may call it form, 
or formal entity. An object, every element of which is distinctly con- 
ceived of, is thought of wholly as form ; but generally we conceive dis- 
tinctly of an object only in part, so that the object is to us part matter 
and part form. Thus entity in general, or any entity, as conceived 
of in one way, may be all matter, and as conceived of in another way, 
may be all form; but generally it is both matter and form. 

Neither the conception of entity as matter, nor the conception of it 
as form, of itself includes the idea of existence. But inasmuch as the 

14 



210 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXVII. 

question, Is there anything? which refers to matter, naturally precedes 
the question, What is it? which refers to form, the notion of existence 
tends to unite itself with that of matter, and to separate itself from that 
of form. Hence, sometimes, by the formal conception of a thing we 
may mean a thing viewed with reference to its form only and without ref- 
erence to its existence or non-existence, or even simply a conception of 
a thing as viewed without reference to its existence or non-existence. This, 
though a natural metonymy, is a secondary use of language. 
The summa Formal entity has been variously divided into summa gen- 
genera of en- era. We propose the following enumeration without enter- 
tity. They ing here upon any discussion of its merits, our present 
™?ve/of and employment of it being only Incidental : space, time, 
enumerated substance, power, action, change, quantity, and relation- 
The'^adicaf' ^^^P' .^^ *^^^ ^^^*^ ^^^^ category is to be construed as 
and the exclusive of every other. Space and time must be thought 

quantitative of to the exclusion of their quantity, though quantity re- 
enumeration. •■] • t,-cxi. oi^ \ j.i*^t 

Sides m each oi them. Substance and power must be dis- 
tinctly considered, though all power dwells either in mind or in matter, 
the only two kinds of substance known to us. Action is to be con- 
sidered to the exclusion of the change Mhich it produces, or tends to 
produce. And relation, — or, as we would prefer to say, relatedness or 
relationship, — which has no independent existence, must yet be inde- 
pendently regarded. Each of the foregoing elements, as distinctly 
conceived of, is a formal entity; thought of simjoly as entity and with- 
out reference to its distinctive character, it might be called a material 
entity. When, thinking of them successively, we say, " This is 
space, this is time, that is power, that is action," we identify each as 
a formal, with itself as a material, entity. Thus we define these entities 
to ourselves, or rather exercise determinate ideas about them. 

The foregoing enumeration supposes an analysis of all objects info their 
ultimate elemental entities^ and is the product of purely metaphysical 
thought. It presents seven fundamenta and the relations arising out 
of them and existing among them. Another logical division of entity, 
with another list of the elements of existence, results from an an- 
alysis of things not so searching as that out of which the enumeration 
just given originates. This second division is conditioned on the pecu- 
liar closeness with which quantity inheres in each of the other catego- 
ries, so that it is difficult for us to think of them deliberately without 
thinking of them as having quantity, as being quanta. The enumer- 
ation of which we now speak omits quantity as a separate element, but con- 
siders each of the remaining members of the first enumeration as having 
quantity united with it. We have, therefore, as the quantitative elements 
of entity, space, time, substance, power, action, change, and relation. 
For relations admit of addition and subtraction, and of the more and 
the less, as well as the other forms of entity. Elements being quanta, 
or quantities, the relations of quantity exist between them, as do also 
other relations which arise among them by reason of their own 
proper natures. 

Materia ^' Comparing the quantitative elements of entity as to 

prima and the respects wherein they agree, we find them alike in being 
secunda. conceivable as matter and as having quantity; but, aside 



Chap. XXVII.J ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. 211 

from quantity, they differ totally as to form. Now since entity, as 
chaj-acterized only by quantity, resembles entity as mere matter in 
being a constant factor in thought, and in being variously character- 
izable by the possession of form (for matter possesses form, though 
matter as such is not conceived of as possessing it), this community of 
nature or character may be indicated by calling entity merely as 
matter materia prima^ and entity merely as having quantity materia 
secunda. 

In the same manner we might speak of ?i forma prima and a forma 
secunda^ the one of these consisting of elements as determined by the 
absolutely ultimate analysis of being, and the other of elements as 
presented by the quantitative analysis. At present we call attention to 
the fact that the idea of quantity has a special tendency to unite with 
our more indefinite conceptions ; hence the use of such words as " some- 
thing," "anything," "any one," and hence the derivation of the 
indefinite article from the numeral one; and we remark further, that 
for the analysis of ordinary thought materia secunda alone may be 
regarded as matter. 

The logical conception of substance — that is, of a substantum, or of 
the subject of attributes — differs but little from that of materia se- 
cunda, of matter as having quantity. But entity, as substance, though 
regarded without any specific conception of form, is conceived of with 
a decided reference to its having some form; as is indicated by the 
construction of the word " substance." This is not the case with the 
notion of entity as matter. Substance, also, is generally conceived of 
as affected by numerical difference; for we speak more frequently of a 
substance, or of substances, than we do of substance simply. Matter, 
on the other hand, is more commonly spoken of in the general than as 
individual. Yet we may, in metaphysics as well as elsewhere, speak 
of " a matter" or of " matters; " and "a thing," using this term 
in its widest and most indefinite sense, may be defined as " a matter," 
or " a material entity. ' ' 

Attribute, From the nature of the case, form cannot be separated 

charSeris ^^^™ substance except in thought; by thought also it is 
tic, quality^ united — that is, regarded as one — with substance. This 

and accideiit union, as we shall see, is mainly identification, the iden- 

defined. tification of a thing, as thought of in one way, with itself 

as thought of in another. Form considered as thus united to sub- 
stance is called attribute. Regarded as the basis of the diversity of 
entities, it is named difference. As marking entity, so that objects 
are seen as having natures of their own, it is character, or characteris- 
tic. Simply as revealing the nature of an entity, it is denominated 
quality ; this is its most radical and important aspect. And sometimes 
it is styled accident, this term being then employed in a wide meta- 
physical sense to signify that which in thought falls into union with 
matter. 

It is evident that the several quantitative elements of any entity may 
be regarded as substanta. Each is a distinguishable quantum, and 
each has form and attributes of its own. Generally, however, when 
we conceive of a thing as a substantum — that is, as a something, dis- 
tmguished from the qualities belonging to it — we are thinking, not 



212 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXVII. 

of a single element, but of a combination of elements. The question 
then arises, Under what conditions is an assemblage of elements re- 
garded as constituting a substantum, and as having the form or the 
attributes which we ascribe to it as such? We answer that this takes 
place whenever that assemblage, as constituting a metaphysical whole, 
is subjected to certain modes of conception and of abstraction, which 
we are now prepared easily to understand. 

Substance ^ metaphysical whole exists whenever a number of the 

and attribute elements of entity, conceived either absolutely or quantita- 
detined in tively, are united in some system of relations. As con- 
to the meta-*^ structed out of elements absolutely ultimate, such a whole 
physical _ may be regarded both as being matter and as being form, 
pai-ts^ ^ The*^ this latter including quantity as one of its elements; or if 
conception the object should be regarded only with that thoroughly 
of tlieni de- differentiating thought in which every element is distinctly 
ultimate ^^ conceived, and not also with that thought which regards 
metaphysical entity aside from differences, it would be a whole of form 
analysis. ^^^^^^ With either of these wholes, whose elements are 
absolutely ultimate, ordinary logical processes are not directly con- 
cerned. They have to do rather with that metaphysical whole which 
is constructed out of quantitative elements, and not out of the abso- 
lutely ultimate elements of being, and which therefore may be con- 
ceived of as composed of a number of substanta, each element being a 
substantum. Such a whole, in its relation to our conception of it, may 
be said to include three sets of objects: for it contains, first, the several 
elemental substanta, or quanta, by whose union it is made to be a 
■whole; secondly, the forms, or differences, belonging to these sub- 
stanta severally; and, thirdly, the various relations whereby the sub- 
stanta with their attributes are bound together into a system. 

Directing our attention specially to these relations, we see that they 
themselves may he regarded as substanta, — that is, as being quanta, 
and as having form, or difference. Adding them in thought, so far 
as they are quanta, to the quanta between which they exist, and re- 
jecting all thought of internal difference among parts or elements, we 
are enabled to think of the whole object as one distinguishable quantum 
of entity, as a substantum ; wdiile our formal conceptions of the several 
elemental parts, including the relations and excluding quantity, also 
unite themselves together and become the formal, or attributal, conception 
of the ichole. According to the first of these modes of thought, we 
regard the object — say a ball — as a certain something ; according to 
the latter, we think of all its properties, — its roundness, hardness, 
size, weight, color, — in short, of its entire character. 

Such seems to be a satisfactory account of the formation and nature 
of the ideas of substance and attribute. At the same time, that gen- 
eral act of conception whereby the several quantitative parts are con- 
ceived of as constituting only one quantum, or substantum, need not, 
we suppose, be preceded by specific and distinct conceptions of those 
parts severally. We may concede to the mind the power of perceiv- 
ing a complex whole, as such, immediately. But probably that ab- 
straction by which the non-quantitative parts or elements are separated 
from the substantum, and thereupon and in their relation to it re- 



Chap. XXVIL] ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. 213 

garded as qualities or attributes, is conditioned upon quantitative con- 
ceptions of the parts. Be this as it may, it is clear that to conceive 
of a substantum, or thing, is to conceive of a metaphysical ichole, as 
such, but with neglect of any distinction of jmrts ; while to conceive of 
attributes is to conceive of elemental parts in their relation to the whole, 
hut with neglect of that element of quantity which is considered once for 
all in the substantum. Thus both conceptions — that of substance and 
that of attribute — involve tliat extreme exercise of the analytic power 
of the mind whereby quantity, which is so intimately united with all 
other forms of entity, is yet distinguished from them. 
Metaphysical That analysis by which an object is more or less resolved 
and logical into the ultimate elements of its being (whether these be 
analysis. considered absolutely or as quantified) may be styled 77ieta- 
physical analysis. By means of it the mind conceives more clearly of 
the nature of things, and advances in scientific knowledge. The other 
analysis — into substance (or subject, or thing, or substantum), and 
into form (or character, attribute, or quality) —we call logical. It is 
employed to facilitate the comparisons and reasonings of the mind. 
The first analysis refers solely to the nature of things, — it is objec- 
tive ; the second regards things in their relation to two opposite m.odes 
of thought, according to one of which an entity is form, or difference, 
while according to the other it is matter, or substantum. Both analyses 
pertain to the metaphysical, or elemental, whole. 

5. When the different elements of being are considered in 
^"J^^j^^a^g^^ their use as attributes, two solicit attention because of diffi- 
attributes. culty likely to arise in respect to them. These are quantity 
Difficulties g^jj^j i-elation. As already explained, quantity is attributed 
Quantity, to an object somewhat differently from the other elements, 
quality, and Each of these, ordinarily, is added in thought to the quan- 
contrasted!^'^ ^i^Y which a substantum is already conceived of as having. 
But quantity itself must either be attributed to entity as 
materia prima, the most indefinite it of language ; or if asserted of a 
substantum, or thing, as ordinarily conceived, must be predicated ana- 

mi- 

his 

is 

but 

explicaterour thought." But it is 'to be 'noticed that when definite 
conceptions of quantity are applied to a substantum, such attribution 
is not that of quantity simply, but that of certain relations or relation- 
ships between objects, growing out of their character as quanta. In 
saying, " The mountain is high," " The horse is strong," " The man 
is rich," the adjectives express not so much quantity as quantitative 
relations — relations of degree — determined by the comparison of 
objects as containing height", or strength, or the possession of means. 
Such a predication of relations is a true mental addition to a substan- 
tum as simply having quantity. 

Relations differ strikingly from every other class of elemental enti- 
ties. They excel all other elements in the variety and delicacy of their 
forms ; and they have a peculiar dependence on the other elements for 
their own existence. The most radical relation of all is that of other- 




214 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXVII. 

ness, or numerical difference ; for it is the condition of all others. Iden- 
tity is not properly a relation, but simply the absence, or non-existence, 
of otherness as characterizing an entity. We often say that relations 
exist between two or more objects ; and relations have been styled in- 
termediate entities. But this expression is not literally true. Strictly 
speaking, nothing exists between objects as related, but every relation 
consists of parts, one of which resides in each of the objects. 

For this reason the term "relationship " is preferable to " relation " 
as a name for the ultimate element of entity, a relation being composed 
of inseparably co-existent relationships. A cause has a relationship 
to the effect, and the effect has a relationship to the cause; and these 
two relationships together make up the relation of cause and effect. 
They arise immediately from the nature of action and from that of 
change. Action and change are the fundamenta of the relation. 

The peculiarity of relationship as an attribute, however, does not 
spring directly from any of the foregoing considerations, but from its 
use in connection with the metaphysical whole. Every such whole 
consists in part of relations. So far as this is the case, relations, 
whether they be between and among the parts or be externally di- 
rected, are attributes just in the same way that the other elements are, 
and are so used by the mind. But when a whole is regarded as com- 
plete in itself, and as existing besides in a relation to some other 
whole, — for example, a dollar as in one's pocket-book, — in this case 
relation is not a quality, or attribute, but a predicate-object, and what we 
commonly mean when we speak of a relation. Thus relationship per- 
forms a double office in respect to substanta, and may be viewed in 
two lights, in one of which it may be a part or attribute or quality of 
the object, and in the other of which it may be distinguished from the 
object as being no part of it. No other element of entity has this 
double office in the same subtile way that relationship has; i'or none is 
ever a predicate-object save as it may be united by some relation to a 
whole, which it thereby qualifies. 

To illustrate: the being a biped, or bipedality, is an attribute of 
man, though it involves the relation of legs to the rest of the body, 
and the relation of number expressed by the word " two," which is a 
particular instance of the relations of quantity, — that, namely, be- 
tween two quanta of the same kind and one taken as a unit of measure. 
So " rich " indicates attribute, though it is essentially the relationship 
of a man to a large property of which he is owner. On the other 
hand, when we say, " The king is in the carriage," the relation ex- 
pressed by " in the carriage "is no part of the king, but only some- 
thing predicated of him. Thus relation, though sometimes an attribute 
or quality, may often be contrasted with attribute, and yenerally is so con- 
trasted save lohen a whole is considered analytically ; then relation and 
attribute are often found to be identical. Objectively speaking, the 
predication of it as an attribute is identificative; it identifies relation 
as form with part of the matter of the snbstantum. Bat the predica- 
tion of it as a relation — that is, a relation outside of the whole — is 
additive. Relationship, as part of a whole, is so united in our concep- 
tion with other more prominent parts that its proper character is 
easily overlooked or misconstrued. It generally enters our thought 



Chap. XXVIII.] GENERALIZATION. 215 

only as a part of some attribute or quality. But it receives its proper 
name when considered by itself, which especially happens when it is 
expressed by a preposition. Thus the notion of "neighbor " includes 
a relation as an attribute, or as part of a complex attribute ; while the 
expression, " He dwells (or is a dweller) near me," more distinctly 
sets forth the relation us such. 

The foregoing remarks indicate how quantity, quality, and relation 
are contrasted in our minds, in their use as things predicable, and how, 
at the same time, there are cases in which both quantity and relation 
must be regarded as qualities or attributes. They show also how the 
distinction, or contrast, with which we ordinarily view these predi- 
cables refers not so much to their own nature as to the mode of our 
thinkings. 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

GENERALIZATION. 

neraiiza "^* GrENERALizATiON is a process allied to abstrac- 
tion related tion, and might be considered a species of it. Gen- 
toabstnic-^ cralization includes what we ordinarily mean by 



tion. . 

era! notions abstraction, together with a farther process radically 
of the same nature. Each of these constituent pro- 
cesses involves the retention of part .of a thought and the 
rejection of the rest. But the part specially rejected when we 
generalize is quite different in its signification or objective force 
from that rejected when we merely abstract ; and the rejection 
of it is attended with peculiar results. For these reasons it is 
well to consider abstraction and generalization as distinct pro- 
cesses. 

Of all the secondary powers of mind, generalization has the 
most immediate bearing upon the philosophy of the ascertain- 
ment of truth and the construction of science. An understand- 
ing of the doctrine of the general notion is the key which 
unlocks the principal mysteries of logic ; and it is the explana- 
tion of the fundamental laws and forms of scientific thought. 

General ideas are those which can be applied to any one of a 
class of similar objects simply on account of their similarity. 
The notions "horse," "man," "strong," "wise," "walk," 
"think," "certainly," " quickl}-," "homeliness," "beauty," 
"fear," "force," and the immense majority of conceptions ex- 
pressed by single words, are general. We have general notions, 
not only of logical substances, or substanta, but also of attri- 
butes and of adjuncts and of abstract substanta. Combinations 



216 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXVIII. 

of thought and statements of truth may also be general, — as 
when we say, " The strength of the horse," " The value of 
mone}'," or ''The wise man speaks wisel}-," "The rose is the 
most beautiful of flowers." Every mode of conception and every 
construction of ideas setting forth the nature of things may as- 
sume the form of generality. But as the character of attributes, 
adjuncts, and predications is determined by that of the substanta 
to which they are attached, our discussion must mainly concern 
the generalization of suhstantal notions. 

The singular Ideas whicli correspond to one object onl}^, and can- 
tined^ Shi- ^^^ ^^ applied to different similar objects, are styled 
guiarsdis- Singular., as having that in their signification which 
from fndi- is wholly singular or peculiar. When some singular 
viduais. object is thought of simply as a singular object of a 
certain kind, we call it an individual ; and our conception of it 
ma}" be styled an individualized conception. If, instead of 
speaking of man in general, we should mention some one person 
as "the man" with whom we had some transaction, or as " a 
man" of whom we heard once, the expressions " tlie man" and 
" a man " would stand for individualized notions. Such notions 
result ordinaril}^ from appljing a general notion to an individual 
object ; in other words, from thinking of the object b}" means of a 
general notion which corresponds to it. 

All singular objects are called iiidiciduals, because the}" cannot 
be divided into members in the same way that classes of similars 
can. When, however, the singular is contrasted with the indi- 
vidual, the latter signifies a singular object considered with 
reference to some general character, while the former sets forth 
the singular object with reference to its own peculiar characteris- 
tics. Csesar, simply as a man, is an individual object ; Csesar, as 
Caesar, is a singular object. In this way individual — or, more 
properly, individualized — notions are contrasted with singular. 
But without this contrast, expressed or understood, the singular 
comprehends both the singular and the individual. 

General notions are expressed by the common noun used 
without addition, as "horse;" individualized notions, b}" this 
noun accompanied or afffected by an individualizing addition or 
adjunct, — for example, "a horse," "horses," "this horse," 
" these horses ; " singular notions, either by proper names or by 
the common noun with some singularizing adjunct, as " The 
king" (that is, the definitely known king), or "Alexander," 
or "Alexander's horse," or "Bucephalus." 

The terms " universal " and "general" are opposed to the 
terms " individual " and " singular." Either of the former may 
be opposed to either of the latter. But the term " universal " is 



Chap. XXVIII.] GENERALIZATION. 217 

more frequently used when the contrast is with singular or indi- 
vidual objects, and the term "general" when the contrast is 
with singular or individual conceptions. " Man " stands for an 
" universal" object, and expresses a general notion. The word 
*' general," being derived from the Latin genus (yeVo<?, a kind), 
signifies what belongs to every one of a given kind of objects. 
This, its original and philosophic meaning, is to be distinguished 
from that signification in common use, according to which what- 
ever is true for the most part of some class of things is called 
general; as when we say, " Savages generally (that is, for the 
most part) are treacherous." 

Modes of ex- 2. A general notion ma}^ either be conceived simply, 
pressing gen- or it mav be conceived as contrasted with other sen- 

Gfjiil notions 

Proper and' cral notious, and as definitel}' distinguishing some 
improper. giyen kind of thing. The proper expression of it 
when conceived in tlie former way is the common noun with- 
out the definite article or other addition. "Man," "gold," 
"virtue," " heat," " malleabilitj^" are words each of which of 
itself expresses a general idea in its purest or simplest form. 
The expression for a general notion, conceived as having a dis- 
tinguishing power, is the common noun witb the definite article 
prefixed. Such designations as "The horse," "The dance," 
" The church," "The state," "The pulpit," " The press," " The 
theatre," and many like them, ma}' serve as illustrations. The 
significance of the article when thus emplo^'ed is quite different 
from its force in pointing out an individual either as definitely 
known or as definitely related. While it attaches itself to gen- 
eral ideas, it does not form any part of them. It is especially 
employed when the mind opposes some one kind of thing to 
others of the same generic nature. When we speak in the gen- 
eral of " the pulpit," we mean that agency of pubhc impression 
as contrasted with the press, the theatre, and other agencies. 
" The dance " is thought of as an amusement and in contrast 
with other amusements. As every general notion may be con- 
ceived either per se or as distinct from other notions, a choice 
becomes possible between the defined and the undefined modes 
of thought and of expression. Some languages, as the French 
and the Greek, prefer the defined ; others, as the Latin and the 
English, the undefined. German occupies a middle ground. 
These differences arise from pecuharities in the mental habits of 
each people. 

Beside the two proper modes of expressing general notions, 
several secondary, or improper, modes are of frequent use. 
The tendency of the mind is to avoid the general and abstract, 
because removed from a view of things as actually existent, and 



218 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXVIII. 

to employ modes of thought in which the general conception is 
presented rather by implication than expressl}'. 

For example, individualized notions are emploj^ed instead of 
general ideas ; and this sometimes in the singular number and 
sometimes in the plural. We say, indifferentl}', "Man must 
die," " A man must die," and " Men must die ; " or " The horse 
is a noble animal," " A horse is a noble animal," and " Horses 
are noble animals." In each case we utter- and intend to utter, 
a general truth. But when using the indefinite terms " a man" 
and " men," we do not present the truth in its naked generalit}' ; 
we give an immediate inference from the general truth, from 
which inference, also, that truth itself ma}^ be immediately in- 
ferred. 

Hence such statements themselves are often st^ied general. 
When the indefinite article occurs in them, it differs from the 
singular number of the adjective "any" only in being a less 
emphatic expression of individual indefiniteness ; the plural of 
nouns signifies that what is said applies to any number or to all 
of the things of the kind named. What is necessarily true of 
any kind of thing is true of any individual or of an}" number of 
individuals of the kind ; and what is necessarily true of anj^ 
individual or any number of individuals of a given kind, simply 
as being of that kind, must be true of that kind of thing in 
general. 

Another secondary' and inferential mode of expression is found 
in universal statements respecting the members of the logical 
class. All the objects to which the same general notion is appli- 
cable ma}' be considered as constituting one class. Whatever 
is true of that general thing, or that kind of thing, which the 
notion represents, must be true of every member of the class 
and of all the members individually ; and whatever is true of 
every member of a logical class, or of all the members individu- 
ally, simply as being things of a certain kind, must be true of 
that kind of thing in general. 

Hence we have such statements as "Every law-breaker should 
be punished," "All judges should be just;" in which class- 
conceptions take the place of the general notion. 
Limited gen- Sometimes a statement in one of the forms of uni- 
eraiity, state- vcrsality wMch we have now considered, evidently is 
mentsof. ^^^ literally true. Should we say, "The horse is a 
useful animal," it might be objected that some horses are utterly 
vicious, wild, and unusable. The fact is that such statements 
are made with an understanding which limits their application ; 
they express, therefore, what is universally true within a given 
sphere. Horses are useful always under the circumstances in 



Chap. XXVIIL] GENERALIZATION. 219 

which the speaker conceives of them, — that is, as ordinarily to 
be met with and observed. These statements of limited univer- 
salit}^ may always take this form, " Things to be supposed being 
supposed, such and such is universally the case." We sa}', 
*' The grape is a luscious fruit/' — that is, of course, alwa^'s when 
it is ripe and in good condition. Because such expressions, when 
interpreted without an interpreter, when considered as unquali- 
fied, though the}' need qualification, are not strictly universal, 
the term '^ general" came to signify that which happens for the 
most part. Here, also, we must allow, what shall be seen more 
clearly hereafter, that the general notion — that is, the notion 
expressed by the common 7ioun — does not always or necessarily 
involve the universality of the predication of which it may he 
the subject. This really results from the necessitudinal character 
which ordinarily belongs to such predications. 

The distinction between general and individual, or singular, 
ideas, even when the latter are used in indefinite or universal 
expressions, as equivalent to the former, is essential to an un- 
derstanding of the nature of the general notion. This distinc- 
tion is recognized in the forms of language ; but the nature of 
it will become more apparent if we consider that process, called 
generalization^ b}' which the mind produces its general thoughts 
or notions. 

The process ^' This proccss, as it ordinaril}' takes place, is often 
of generaii- and corrcctly described as follows : — 
scribed and First, a number of objects are perceived to be similar 
defined. ^^ ^^^.j^ other in one or more respects. Ten, fifteen, 
twent}', or any number of cherries, are seen to be alike in their 
form, size, color, taste, contents, origin, and use. That act of 
the mind whereby its thought is intentionally exercised regard- 
ing objects, in order to discern their points of likeness and of 
unlikeness, is called comparison. 

Secondly, the perception of similarit}' obtained by comparison 
is followed b}' an act of abstraction, whereby the objects com- 
pared are thought of only as to those characteristics or parts in 
which they are alike, all other characteristics being rejected from 
consideration. We have now still as man}' ideas as there are 
objects, but every idea is precisely similar to ever}' other. Our 
conceptions, at this stage, of fifteen or twent}' cherries are very 
similar to what our perceptions of the same number of cherries 
would be, were the cherries arranged in a row at such a distance 
from us that no diff"erence in size, or appearance, or an}' other 
particular, could be noticed between any two of them. 

Thirdly, some one individual object, selected at random, is 
thought of in the special or abstract view taken of it ; or all the 



220 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXVIII. 

individuals are thus thought of at once, under one plural con- 
ception, — that is, we think of one particular cherry as this or 
that cherry simplj^ or of all the cherries, collectively, as those 
cherries. For a plural conception, in which we think at once 
of many things as many, is not composed of man}^ unital con- 
ceptions, though it may be derived from them, but is the 
same as a unital — that is, a grammaticall}' singular — concep- 
tion, save only that the element of pluralit}^ has displaced that 
of unity. 

Fourtlil}', the mind, taking either of these last-described con- 
ceptions, rejects from it the element of individualit}'. Thereupon 
we think, not of an}' individual cherry, nor of any number of 
individual cherries, but simply of " cherr}'," or of " the cherr3\" 
The first two of the foregoing steps, and likewise 
point in gen- the last two, may, if we please, be naturally regarded 
the^specific' ^^ ^^^^- Generalization, therefore, may be described 
difference of as Containing two successive parts or stages, in the 
t IS process. ^^^^ ^^ wMch wc cousidcr a number of similar objects 
abstractly and onl}' so far as thej' are similar, and in the second 
of which we discard the element of individuality from the con- 
ception either of one object or of several. 

This second step is the essential part, the specific difference, 
of the process of generalization ; it may be illustrated hy a 
mental experiment. Let us suppose ourselves to inspect, suc- 
cessivel}^ a number of ships at a seaport town, so as to have 
a correct and distinct idea of each. Let us imagine, also, the 
whole fleet to have set out to sea, and to have attained a distance 
at which each ship can be seen plainh', yet not with sufficient 
distinctness to be recognized by means of its own peculiarities. 
Our perception of the vessels is now quite undefined as compared 
with the views obtained in the harbor, 3'et it is still a perception 
of individuals ; we see this ship, that ship, and the other, sailing 
before us. Now, shutting our eyes, let us take the thought of 
an}' one ship, or of several, and let us eliminate from this con- 
ception all reference to individual difference, and all thought of 
the fact that individual peculiarities must and do exist. There 
remains the general notion, "ship," or "the ship." 
The thought ^^ Order to an understanding of the process of 
nofin^i^d'd S'^i^^i'^^ization, certain points are worthy of special 
in the gen- Consideration. In the first place, let us notice that 
erai notion, ^^^g thought of the similaritj' found to exist between 
the objects compared does not enter into the general conception 
as a component part of it. The general notion includes the 
respects wherein the objects are aUke, but not their likeness. 
Similarit}' furnishes a rule to be observed b}' the mind in the 



Chap. XXVIIL] GENERALIZATION. 221 

process of abstraction, but is not itself one of the elements ab- 
stracted. After the completion of the generalization, all thought 
of the comparison may be dismissed, just as a scaffolding no 
longer needed may be taken awa}'. 

This introduces the remark that generalization may 
tion p^ossi^bfe take placc without an}" comparison at all, and from 
without com- ^i^e Consideration of only one object. It is only ne- 
cessar}' that we shoukl conceive, more or less fully, 
of the object, and then reject from our conception the thought 
of individual difference or peculiarit}^ ; for in this way we can 
obtain a notion applicable to an}" other object which may be 
similar to the one considered so far as it is considered, — that 
is, a general notion. A geologist finding a specimen of rock 
such as he has never seen before, may truly say that he has 
discovered a new kind of stone. Commonly, however, the com- 
parison of individuals is requisite for the exact establishment 
and definition of any existing kind of thing. 
We do not Some writers, referring to the exclusion of all thought 
think the of individual difference, have said that in generaliza- 
tiie same^or ^^^^^ ^^ think the similar as the same and the many 
the many as as the onc. Such language is not strictly true, and 
t e one. ^^ calculated to perplex. There is a sense in which it 
may be accepted ; but, taken literall}', it suggests either that a 
number of different things can be condensed together so as to 
form one of their own number, or that, against reason and fact, 
we can think of them as if the}" could. The mind in general- 
ization does not judge and accept the many and different to be 
one and the same, but rather rejects all thought of their number 
and difference, and no longer thinks of them, or of any one indi- 
vidual object ; but thinks that one thought which remams^ and 
which, in a certain pecuUar, secondary, and figurative sense, 
may be said to have an object — one object — of its own. 

Lastly, we must qualify the statement that the final step in 
generalization is to reject all thought of individual, or numerical, 
difference. This is an essential step, but it is not always the final 
one ; for we generalize not only from individuals but from kinds, 
and thus one general notion may be formed from others more 
specific. From horse, dog, cat, fox, lion, tiger, and other four- 
footed beasts we may form the conception "quadruped." In such 
a case w"e discard only formal, or specific, not individual, or nu- 
merical, difference ; the individual difference has been eliminated 
already. This generalization from kinds is sometimes distin- 
guished as generification. 

We may indeed form generic notions from those of specific 
classes of things^ and in that case, of course, we discard the 



222 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXVIII. 

individuality ascribed to classes and their members ; but this is 
not that generification to which we refer, and which generalizes 
directly from general notions. 

4. Having considered general notions, and the 
objector u'ni- inode of their formation, we proceed to inquire con- 
vei'sai. Is cerning general objects, — or universals, as the}^ have 
mentioned, been styled by philosophers. The true doctrine con- 
rea/Sfist- cemiug univcrsals is not only interesting in itself, but 
ence. Anaio-also Contributes greatl}' to an understanding of the 
fdeai object, nature and functions of the general notion. 
es?^o^uod*^ First of all, it is to be premised that in some sense 
est! singa- or Other wc may speak of general objects. We con- 
BoetWus'. stantlj^ mention such things. We say, ' ' Man is mor- 
tal," " War is a dreadful evil," " Virtue is the highest 
good,'* " The pulpit and the press are potent in a free country," 
" The human soul is godUke and immortal." It would be folly 
to sa}' that those who make such statements are not, in any 
sense, thinking about anything, — that their conceptions do not, 
in any sense, have objects. Several theories have been held in 
regard to the significance of that thought which is expressed by 
general language ; but one of two views must be correct. Either 
it sets forth objects which exist as tru\y and literallj^ as the mind 
itself does which thinks of them, and as those individuals do 
which the mind perceives and knows to exist ; or it ma}^ be held 
that our thoughts and statements, as about universals, are 
secondary modes of mental action^ based upon^ and referring 
to^ our thinkings concerning real objects, yet not of themseloes 
setting forth any reality. In other words, general ma}' be sup- 
posed to be analogous with ideal objects, of which we speak as 
if they really existed and acted and were related variously, when 
in truth the}^ do not exist at all. 

Of these contradictory views the second alone, in whatever 
light the matter may be regarded, is worthy of acceptance. 
Theuniversai ^^^i ^I'st of all, to suppose the reality of universals 
an impossible would lead to great absurdities. Take any general 
entity. object, as " animal." We ask. Where, when, and how 

long has it existed ? Who ever saw it ? What is its position 
as a part of the universe of actual being? Clearty no place or 
period can be assigned to it unless we say that it exists every- 
where and always ; for whatever exists at any particular place 
or for any given time is and must be an individual object. But 
what absurdity to think of an eternal and omnipresent animal ! 

Nor does it help the matter to sa^' that the general animal ex- 
ists in ever}^ individual animal. P"or we can conceive of animals 
that have no existence, such as unicorns, winged horses, great 



Chap. XXVIIL] GENERALIZATION. 223 

sea-serpents ; 3'et such animals would include the universal. And 
further, although ever}" animal has that in it which corresponds to 
the general object, and ma}' be conceived of by the application 
of a general notion, still, properly speaking, it does not include 
the universal, but only that which corresponds to it. Every 
part of the nature of any individual animal is individual, not 
universal ; and the general notion when applied to any individual 
or to any number of individuals, receives an addition whereby 
it ceases to be a general, and becomes an individualized, notion. 
Moreover, the general object " animal," if it exist, is but one 
object ; but if it exist in many different animals, it must do so 
as the many and the different. And so a case arises in which 
many and different objects are, without any change of meaning, 
one and the same object. This is an impossibility. Hence those 
authors who say that in generalization we think of the many 
as the one, of the similars as the same, swerve from literality. 
Their language resembles that employed when we speak of cer- 
tain things which have similar natures as having one common 
nature ; just as if a nature were like a piece of land, or other 
property, which several persons may own in common. 

The only literal truth in the case is that the objects, by reason 
of their similarity, are related to one and the same notion^ 
so that it may be applied to each of them, and is therefore a 
common or general notion. 

The true ^^ ^'^ ucxt placc, the gcnesis and essential nature 

character of of the general notion, and the manner of its employ- 
shown from ment by the mind, show how it comes to be formed 
Saur"Tnd ^^^ "®®^ without having any object of its own. Gen- 
useofthegen-eral notions are a secondary mode of thought, and 
erai notion. ^^^ derived by a process of abstraction from indi- 
vidual or singular conceptions. This derivation, as that also of 
generic from specific conceptions, can often be actually traced, 
and always satisfactorily accounts for the origin of the notion. 

Many, both in ancient and in modern times, have taught that 
some of our abstract ideas, and particularly those of a moral na- 
ture, are innate, and born with the soul ; and they have given 
the mind a power of perceiving certain kinds of general truth 
by " the immediate intuition of the reason." It is sufficient to 
say that such doctrines have almost entirely disappeared, as the 
progress of philosophic investigation has shown them to be 
unnecessary and unfounded. The power, first of perceiving 
individual facts and objects, and then of forming from these 
perceptions general truths and notions, is, we believe, inborn ; 
but the development and exercise of this power do not presup- 
pose the actuality of any general object. 



224 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXVIIL 

Moreover, not only are general notions cleriyecl from 
iiatecharac- perceptions and conceptions of individual objects ; they 
eraUiotiof f "' ^^^^ are uscd exclusiveh' with reference to individuals : 
and its essen- their wholc value and force lies in their applicability, 
tiai nature, j^ -^ ^^^ means of these notions that we are informed 
regarding the nature of individual things. The general concep- 
tion being appMed to one or more objects, we understand what 
it or the}' may be ; we can sa}', ^' It is an animal," or " They 
are animals." 

Then the general notion enables us to form judgments regard- 
ing individuals, because whatever is true of the universal, by 
reason of some necessitj- which attaches to it, must be true of 
every corresponding individual. The truth that " animal life is 
supported by food " is valuable, because we may infer from it im- 
mediately that this or that animal, these or those, some or any 
or all, animals, live b}' means of food. The general, or general- 
ized, judgment is simply an instrumental and intermediate state 
of mind which frequentl}" intervenes between the perception of 
necessit}' in some individual case or cases, and the assertion of 
necessitj' in some other similar individual case or cases. 

Finall}^ the general notion is used in indeterminate thought ; 
and in this, especiallj', its character, as wholly subordinate to the 
individual conception, is strikingly manifest. For the universal 
is often made the subject of statements which cannot be re- 
garded even as propositions of limited or conditioned generality. 
We can sa}', ^' The trotting horse has now attained the speed of 
a mile in less than two minutes and a quarter," or, to use a 
nobler illustration, " Man measures the weight of the sun, and 
the distance of star from star." In such statements as these, it 
is equally evident that the subject is an universal, and that it is 
not conceived of as having a separate existence of its own. The 
facts presented concern only certain individuals of a class ; it 
would be absurd to assert them of any separate and univei'sal 
entit}'. 

Predications like the foregoing, which are not uncommon, 
throw light on the true nature and significance of the general 
notion. The}^ show that it is an abstract and indeterminate 
mode of thought which the mind always refers or applies to 
individuals more or less immediatel}', and which always has 
universal applicability, j^et is not always used as having it. For 
not every trotter attains the speed mentioned, nor is every man 
an astronomer. From all of which we gather that the character 
and name of universal, or general, are derived rather from the 
chief property and principal employment of the notion than from 
its essential nature. 



Chap. XXIX.] REALISM AND NOMINALISM. 225 

When we say, "Man calculates eclipses," the term "man" 
expresses what we common^ mean by a general idea ; 3'et in 
this statement the idea is not general or universal, but only ab- 
stract and indeterminate. Of itself it does not include reference 
to the many or to the few ; it simply presents its own contents. 
We are told that human beings calculate echpses ; whether 
man}^ or few of them do so, or even only one, is no necessary 
implication of the general notion. 

In view, therefore, of the origin, use, and radical nature of 
general conceptions, we conclude that there are no general ob- 
jects to correspond with them, that universals, as such, are unreal 
entities, and that in thinking as if of them, we do not think of 
realities at all, but onlj^ in a waj' similar to, and correspondent 
with, our conception of real objects. In accordance with this 
we find that men, in ordinar}" speech, never make independent 
mention of general objects, or universals, as if they were a dis- 
tinct class of entities, but only use terms setting forth indeter- 
minate notions which may be applied to individual objects. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 
REALISM AND NOMINALISM. 

1. The discussion of the general notion would not be 
o?oiJri1on7 complete without some reference to the history of opinions 
concerning concerning universals. This exhibits a gradual advance- 
p'Vr'^^^^' ™ent in the apprehension of truth, together with some 
SocrSes,^^^' movements of a mistaken or retrograde character. The 
Plato, Aris- school which Pythagoras founded, five hundred years before 
Porphyry^' Christ, was the first to give formal expression to the error 
of attributing reality to universals; but the earliest extant 
teaching of this doctrine is to be seen in those writings which Plato 
composed about one hundred years after the death of Pythagoras. 
Socrates, the master of Plato, had insisted upon the necessity of our 
attaining correct conceptions of the permanent and the important by 
observing in individual cases what may be essential to any given kind 
of thing. This teaching was developed and enforced by Plato in his 
doctrine of ideas. But the term " idea," as employed by Plato, meant 
something wholly different from what we now understand by it. He 
contrasted the idea {r} Idea, to eldos) with the conception (v6r]fxa), and 
meant by it the ohject of the conception. The genius and aims of this 
delightful writer are moral rather than metaphysical: yet his state- 
ments imply that ideas have an existence of their own, separate from 
the mind and from individuals ; that ideas alone are true, incorruptible, 

15 



226 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXIX. 

and imperishable entities ; and that the passing objects and phenom- 
ena of the world derive the laws of their existence from these ethereal 
ideas. 

Aristotle, rejecting Plato's doctrine, denied that ideas, or univer- 
sals, exist separately from the individual; yet he was far from refusing 
them a reality. He did not see that the distinction between matter 
and form which we make and use in our ordinary thinkings, repre- 
sents no external, or objectual, difference of things, or parts, or ele- 
ments, but only sets forth the very same things in their relations to 
two different modes of thought. He accounts for the generation, or 
the becoming, of things by the union of matter and form, as two ele- 
ments externally distinguishable. But he asserts that form never exists 
save in union and co-operation with matter, and that matter never 
exists save in similar union with form. Moreover, what is general or 
universal is formal, and never exists separately, but always is uniting 
variously with matter so as to produce the individual. 

The inextricable confusion of the Aristotelian metaphysics is to be 
traced chiefly to the misapprehension of the true natui-e of such dis- 
tinctions as that between matter and form; and if to this cause we 
add the influence of ambiguous terms, it will be entirely accounted for. 
As an instance of the latter, the word ovaia, which may mean either a 
substance in the narrow or metaphysical sense, or a logical substance, 
or the essence of a thing, or an entity, or a real existence, or any one 
of these in the general, constantly operates, in the writings of Aris- 
totle, as a philosophic stumbling-block. The obscurity of ancient 
metaphysical teachings, with their imperfect distinctions and yet more 
imperfect terminology, can be appreciated by those only who may en- 
deavor to comprehend them. 

It is said, without much evidence, that Zeno and the Stoics denied 
the reality of universals. Be this as it may, the question descended 
from the more ancient philosophers as a legacy to their successors. In 
the third century of our era, Porphyry, a Neo-Platonlst, who taught 
philosophy at Rome, mentions certain inquiries concerning universals 
as too profound for his discussion. These were, " Wheilier genera and 
species subsist in the nature of things or in mere conceptions only ; and 
whether^ if existent, they are corporeal or incorporeal; and tchether they 
exist separately from sensible objects or not.'''' In Neo-Platonism, at 
Rome, Athens, and Alexandria, the philosophy of the ancients exerted 
its last independent activity. 

Thesiihs "^"^^ scholastics — that is, the great Christian teachers 
tics: Roscef- o^ the ]Middle Ages — earnestly discussed the nature of 
Unas, Abe- universals; with them this subject was closely connected 
tu?^!\^^<nm's ^^^^* *^^® doctrine of Divine creation and government. 
Thornas' ' According as they asserted or deiiied the reality of the uni- 
:^",V'^^' . versal, they were classed as realists and as nominalists. In 
Occam. the eleventh century Roscellinus maintained nominalism, 

but his eloquent disciple, Peter Abelard, advocated a kind 
of moderate realism; and from that time till towards the close of 
scholasticism, the doctrine of Abelard generally prevailed. 

It is, however, simple justice to say that the teaching of the medi- 
aeval thinkers was different from that either of Plato or Aristotle, and 



Chap. XXIX.] REALISM AND NOMINALISM. 227 

vastly to be preferred. Albertus Magnus held that universals exist 
ante rem in the Divine intellect, in re in the individual object, and post 
rem in the human intellect by reason of the power of mental abstrac- 
tion. His great contemporary, Thomas Aquinas, taught that "forms 
^vhich exist in matter have come from immaterial and separately ex- 
isting forms, which, however, subsist not in themselves, as Plato says, 
but in the Divine mind, and derive their causing power from Heaven." 
Finally, in the fourteenth century, William of Occam revived the 
nominalist doctrine, and asserted that singulars alone exist, and that 
such things as universals, even as mental conceptions, are wholly 
•without reality. His views were favored at the universities, but 
caused great commotion in Church and State. The Emjoeror Lewis of 
Bavaria protected the followers of Occam, while Louis the Eleventh 
of France sided with the Pope, and persecuted them. 

In later times nominalism found a powerful advocate in 
nomfnallsts: Thomas Hobbes, tlje contemporary and friend of Lord 
Hobbes, Bacou. " Tf," says Hobbes, " one should desire the 
Humf ¥tew- P^^^^^®^' ^o make him the picture of a man (which is as 
ait, Camp- much as to say of a man in general); he meaneth no more 
bell, Hamii- but that the painter should chuse what man he pleaseth to 
^^' draw, which must needs be some of them that are, or have 

been, or may be; none of which are universal. But when he would 
have him to draw the picture of the king, or any particular person, he 
limiteth the painter to that one person he chuseth. It is plain, there- 
fore, that there is nothing universal but names; which are therefore 
called indefinite, because we limit them not to ourselves, but leave 
them to be applied by the hearer." To us this illustration seems an 
unfortunate one for its purpose. A painter might make an outline 
image which, without being the likeness of any particular man, would 
serve to call to mind some one of our race; and iC this be so, may not 
the human mind have the power of forming an indeterminate no- 
tion, which is not the conception of any individual man, but yet is 
applicable to any ? 

About one hundred years after Hobbes, nominalism was elegantly 
set forth in the writings of Berkeley and Hume. In the present cen- 
tury it has been defended by Stewart, Campbell, and Hamilton. But 
these last-named authors, as w^ell as others of an older date, really 
modify their teaching so as to concede to the mind a power of general 
thinking. The inevitable difficulty of strict nominalism is that it sets aside, 
instead of explaining, a icell-known mental phenomenon. Those who in- 
stitute inquiry by a scrutiny of consciousness must see, more or less 
clearly, that we have general notions. 

Hence every argument for nominalism may be turned against itself. 
Berkeley saj^s: "The idea of a man that I frame to myself must be 
either of a white or a black or a tawny, a straight or a crooked, a tall 
or a low or a middle-sized, man; " which language can only mean that 
our idea of a man must be the idea either of a white or a black or a 
tawny man, and so forth. But the simple fact is that we constantly 
do think even of an individual man — much more, therefore, of man 
in general — without thinking of the determinations of singularity. 
Things cannot exist without determinations, but they can be conceived 



228 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXIX. 

of ^without them. At the present day nominalistic views are held only 
by certain associationalists, sensationalists, and materialists, whose 
systems produce an incapacity for miderstanding the more delicate 
phenomena of psychical life. 

M dernreal- Since the inauguration of modern philosophy in the 
ism. Spi- seventeenth century by Descartes, the influence of realism 
noza, Schel- j^as been notably manifest in the pantheism of Spinoza, 
The'lStlx- and yet more in that of Schelling and of Hegel, 
piring effort Spinoza's radical conception, the unity of substance, 
metaphysks* "^^^ immediately based on the scholastic definition, "Ens 
" per se subsistens," but was wonderfully supported by a 
philosophic error that can be traced to a very early day. For Aris- 
totle himself, following Parmenides of Elea, identified existence with 
unity, and taught that the science of entity is the same as the science 
of unity, and that in some sense the existent, as such, is also the one. 
This obscure doctrine, which sounds absurd in modern ears, found 
support in the ambiguity of an idiom in Greek. Often in that lan- 
guage general attributal notions are expressed by the neuter singular 
of adjectives accompanied by the definite article. To ayaObv and to 
KoKov signify excellence and beauty. Tn the same way to ov and to ev 
are employed throughout the metaphysics of Aristotle to signify exist- 
ence and unity. These meanings were perfectly allowable ; and it is 
evident that they do not present realities, but simply abstracta or uni- 
versals. But the expressions to ov and to ev may also be taken in an 
actualistjc sense, and as having the individualizing, instead of the 
merely distinguishing, force of the article; in that case to ov would 
mean the only existing being, and to eV the only one being, the only 
one unit. But these must be identical. Therefore, simply allowing 
that these expressions set forth realities, we must admit their teaching 
that there is one being only. 

Aristotle was too sensible a thinker to carry out this doctrine fully ; 
but Spinoza found no difiiculty. Giving objectual reality to the gen- 
eral abstract ideas of the unit and the existent^ as if each were one indi- 
vidual object, and the only one of its kind, he thereupon identifies 
these things. For if the unit be the only one, there can be no existent 
beside it; and if the existent be the only being ^ there can be no unit 
beside it. Hence the identity of to ov, to ev, and to rrav; hence the 
impersonal pantheistic substance. 

The continued attribution of reality to universals, even after they 
were no longer granted an existence apart from intellectual activity, 
left the way open and ready for the heresy of Schelling and Hegel. 
They declared and maintained ably that object and subject, the real 
and the ideal, thoughts and things, nature and spirit, are identical. 
Hegel treated being — that is, general attributal existence — as a real 
object, and found in it the power of evolving out of itself, and as parts 
of itself, all other things and combinations of things. Thus modern 
genius unconsciously produced a gigantic system of delusion out of the 
ancient metaphysics. The philosophic pantheism which prevailed in 
Germany at the beginning of the present century is a notable instance 
of the fact that the doctrine of realism, whenever logically followed 
out, leads into a labyrinth of error. 



Chap. XXIX.] REALISM AND NOMINALISM. 229 

Some, however, have called themselves realists, and some yet do so, 
who scarcely deserve the name. To hold that classes of similars, cor- 
responding to general notions, actually exist, and are not mere crea- 
tions of the intellect ; to teach that many things in their individual 
natm-es have a power of producing their like, and of perpetuating their 
kind; to believe that general conceptions dwelt in the Divine spirit 
prior to the existence of organized beings ; and to hope that by the 
study of the universe we ourselves may seize and think the thoughts 
of God, — these are things entirely consistent with the doctrine of the 
non-reality of universals. 

Conceptual- Jo^^^ Locke — who was eighteen years old when Des- 
ism. Locke, cartes died, who was born in 1632, the same year with 
Eeicl, etc. Spinoza, and who died in 1704, twenty years before the 
birth of Kant, and seventy before that of Schelling — was probably 
the first of modern philosophers to state clearly the true doctrine con- 
cerning general ideas. Before his time conceptualism, as it has been 
called, had found advocates, but had not attained any established po- 
sition, in the world of letters. '' General and universal," says Locke, 
" belong not to the real existence of things, but are the inventions and 
creatures of the understanding, made by it for its own use, and con- 
cern only signs, whether words or ideas. Words are general when 
used for signs of general ideas, and so are applicable indifferently to 
many particular things ; and ideas are general when they are set up 
as the representatives of many particular things: but universality be- 
longs not to things themselves, which are all of them particular in their 
existence, — even those words and ideas which in their signification 
are general. " Had Locke, in addition to the foregoing, clearly seen and 
taught that ideas, whether general or singular, are simply the states or 
actions of the soul in thinking, and that an idea is never, in any true 
or literal sense, the object of itself, the philosophy of the eighteenth 
century might have been saved from much useless and extravagant 
speculation. As it was, Locke's doctrine has prevailed. Adopted 
and improved by Keid, it was defended by him against Berkeley and 
Hume; and at the present time conceptualism is upheld hij the general as- 
sent of philosophers., though even yet some scarcely comprehend how 
we can think as if of objects when no objects corresponding to our 
thought exist. 

The laws of 2. Most general statements are intended as necessitudinal 
existence de- and hypothetical predications. This is often the case even 
are^neraT when they include also an actualistic reference or implica- 
aiid unreal tion. So far as general statements are hypothetical they 
objects. are said to express laws, — that is, either the laws of entity 

in general, or of some kind or department of existence. It follows, 
therefore, that, in strict truth, the laws of being, in all its departments., 
are not real but general things, or universals. They are not even ideal 
individualities. A law of existence is a general case of antecedent 
and consequent ; and the truth of the statement expressing it lies in 
this, that a real and individual fact corresponding to the general con- 
sequent necessarily exists whenever there is a real and individual fact 
corresponding to the antecedent. Hence we say that general scien- 
tific statements express laws and not facts. Similar remarks apply to 



230 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXIX. 

moral and governmental law as a general mode of conduct prescribed 
for us by some authority or necessity. It has no more reality than 
those general forms, or modes of existence, which are necessitated by 
general antecedents. Therefore the legal profession properly distin- 
guish between fact and law. But sometimes by a law we mean the 
mental or verbal statement of some mode of conduct prescribed by 
authority or duty; and in that sense a law may be individual and real. 

3. Along with the truth that universals do not exist, we may 
consider the correlative doctrine, which Locke maintains, that '■'■all 
tilings that exist are particulars,'''' — that is, individuals. By this it is 
not taught that we cannot think of — that is, as if of — individuals 
which do not exist, but only that whenever anything really exists, 
it is an individual. 

That only individuals exist, naturally follows from the non-reality of 
universals; for whenever our thought leaves the general, it necessarily 
returns to the individual. It must therefore find the real in the 
individual, or not at all. 

This doctrine, however, does not stand in need of extrinsic proof; 
it is self-evident. Every object that is perceived to exist is jjerceived 
also to have individualittj and form, or nature. As individual, it is per- 
ceived to be the same with itself, and to differ from other objects in 
being other than they; this is individual, or numerical, identity and 
difference. As having form, or nature, it is perceived to agree with 
other objects of a similar form, and to differ from other objects of a 
dissimilar form; this is formal, or specific, agreement and difiierence. 
Not only substances, but spaces, times, powers, and, in short, all kinds 
of entity, are thus characterized. That only individuals exist, or can 
exist, may be accepted as a simple and ultimate law of being. 

In mediaeval metaphysics there was much discussion 
'^ium^ncU- concerning the principium individuationis, or origin of indi- 
viduiLa viduality. This naturally attended realism. For on the 
6im{)le and supposition that a universal really exists and is the basis of 
of beiug. ^ the individual existence of all things of a given kind, the 
question arises. How is the individual produced, or formed, 
from the universal ? But when realism is rejected, there is no place 
for such an inquiry. 

Individuality, as a necessary characteristic of all entity, can be pro- 
duced or destroyed only so far as entity can be produced or destroyed. 
The individuality of God, of spaces, and of times is not produced at 
all ; for these objects are not produced or producible. But the indi- 
viduality of created objects and of their relations necessarily comes 
into existence with the objects themselves. 

The terms ^' ^^^ ^^^® present and previous discussions we have used 

"concep- the term "conception" as a general word applicable to 
tion '' and either the power, the process, or the product of the mind 
no ion. -j^ ^i^g formation of its ideas, whether singular or general. 
On the other hand, the term " notion " has been for the most part 
restricted to general ideas, though it naturally applies also to those 
indefinite individualized conceptions which are so closely allied to the 
general. In this use of language we have been governed partly by neces- 
sity and partly by propriety. Of late years, especially since the days 



Chap. XXX.] THE PHASES OF INTELLECT. 231 

of Hamilton, many have applied the term "conception " to general 
thinkings only. This is a departure from earlier usage and from that 
still employed in common speech, and, without any sufficient reason, 
deprives philosophy of a most useful word. "Conception," being 
derived from concipere, "to grasp," properly denotes any thought, 
but especially any synthetic thought, in which the grasping, or com- 
prehending, power of the mind is exerted. 



CHAPTER XXX. 

THE PHASES OF INTELLECT. 

Three erand ^' ^^ order to the attainment of that degree of 
phases oi Intellectual development and efficiencj' which char- 
SsSnguished ^c^^^^^^s ^^^^ human mind, there is need of a threefold 
and account- work, and consequently of an ability", on the part of 
the soul, to act mental!}' in three diverse waj's. First 
of all, we must be able to perceive such objects as come within 
the range of our immediate observation ; for without such a 
power we could have no ideas at all. Secondly, we must be 
able to recall and control the ideas and the knowledge gained by 
this perception of things ; otherwise our thought, dying the in- 
stant it was born, would serve only as a momentary' illumination 
of our darkness. Finally, we need a penetrative and compre- 
hensive power of mind, — a power whereb}' the nature of things 
may be clearly understood and correctly reasoned from ; with- 
out which we would be incapable of intellectual progress and 
of the management of affairs. Corresponding to these neces- 
sities, and, in a sense, originating from them, are the three 
grand phases of mental Hie, — tlie perceptive^ or cognitive; 
the reproductive^ or representative; and the discursive^ or 
rationed. 

These phases have so many attributes in common, and each of 
them comprehends such a variet}^ of modes, that they are distin- 
guished more easily by a reference to the necessities in which 
they originate and the ends which they serve, than by any in- 
ternal characteristics. In this way, we believe, our ordinary 
conceptions of them are formed. At the same time w^e should 
seek accurate ideas of the diversities of these phases considered 
in their own character as aggregates of mental operations. 

No one of them is distinguishable from the others by any radi- 
cal or generic diversity in the powers producti\'e of it. Not only 
thought and conviction, the primary powers, but also attention. 



232 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXX. 

suggestion, S3'nthesis, analysis, abstraction, conception, gen- 
eralization, — in short, all the secondary powers, — are involved, 
to a greater or less extent, in each of these general modes of 
mental action. Yet in each phase our powers, being exercised 
under special conditions, act also in peculiar or specific ways. 
A critical consideration of these peculiarities of action ma}'" 
lead to an exact conception of internal or essential differences. 
Using this discriminating care, w^e will first avoid some mis- 
takes of confusion, and will then attempt the definitions we 
desire to make. 

Misconcep- First of all, we must bear in mind that one phase of 
tions tobe intellect ma}' be distinguished by the special or promi- 
piiaseisthe ucut exercisc of some power, without being the only 
fiefdfoJthe ^^ exclusive field for the exercise of it. The use of 
operation of general conceptions and the formation of inferences 
mentaT^* from them are prominent features of the discursive 
power. phase of thought ; but the}' also occur in certain 

modes of sense-perception, and in that style of reproductive 
thought which is called miagination. In like manner the 
power of association or suggestion, which is a prominent fac- 
tor in the reproductive phase, is a necessary element of rational 
thinking. In view of these and similar facts, the most that can 
be claimed for any one of the generic modes of intellect now 
under consideration is that it exhibits the special or peculiar 
action of one or more powers. 

No hase Secondly, it is not to be supposed or understood that 

com prises the cach phasc of activity necessarily constitutes the whole 
mentli expe- ^^ ^"^* mental experience during the time of its con- 
rienceatone tiuuance. By the term " phase," here, we mean sim- 
^^^ ply the total collection of those activities which, 

arising from common conditions, accomplish, or tend to accom- 
plish, a common end or work, and are therefore naturally re- 
garded by us in one general view. We do not mean the total 
of our mental experience at any one time. 

Activities belonging to different phases may co-exist, and a 
constant influence may be exerted from one phase upon another. 
Thus an object seen may give a new turn to some train of 
thought, or may furnish a link in some chain of reasoning ; the 
observations of sense may be directed by the recollections of 
memory or the principles of science ; and the playful work of 
fancy often interrupts, and sometimes is interrupted by, the 
earnest inquiries of philosophy. Yet the activities of the differ- 
ent pliases may be distinguished even while mingling with, and 
affecting, each other. For the operations of the reproductive 
intellect are always subsequent in nature to those of perception, 



Chap. XXX.] THE PHASES OF INTELLECT. 233 

and pi'esiippose them ; while the operations of the discursive 
faculty are subsequent in nature to both the rest. 
A mental Thirdh', it may be difficult, sometimes, to say to 

operation ^ which One of the three grand phases of intellect some 
totwo piiafes complex activit}', or series of activities, should be as- 
at once*. signed ; it is even conceivable that an operation may 
be of such a double character as to belong to two phases at 
once. An argumentative history or a philosophical poem might 
be claimed either for the reproductive or for the rational phase ; 
for the one would combine memory, the other imagination, with 
reasoning. 

Ordinaril}^, the character of any intellectual state or work 
ma}' be determined b}^ considering simply the principal end 
immediately subserved b}^ it. Imagination involves sldll and 
judgment in the analysis and synthesis of ideas, and might 
therefore be assigned to the discursive intellect. Yet this 
facult}^, in its ordinary development and use, is properl}^ classed 
as one mode of reproduction ; for it aims simply at the con- 
templation of its own creations^ and not at all at the attain- 
ment of truth and understanding. But there is an exercise of 
intellect ver}^ nearly akin to imagination, which, taking rea- 
son for its guide, and acting in the service of the knowledge 
of fact, forms conjectures, hj-potheses, ideals, and illustra- 
tions ; and this mode of thought, which has been called the 
philosophical imagination^ is a subordinate part of the dis- 
cursive faculty, its proper aim and effect being to discover 
and comprehend the truth. 

Finallj', we must be careful not to limit our concep- 
siK)ui(Fbe^^ tion of any one of the grand phases of thought so as to 
regarded as excludc from it any element of activity which is ever 

includin*' ^ , " 

whatever be- properly included within it. The perceptive phase 
aJjytiSi.^ ^^ i^^y ^G styled the presentative, because in it alone 
Perception we find immediate or presentational cognitions, and 
ferencefand because uo perception takes place without at least 
iSon''^^"^"' having such a cognition as its most essential part. 
Yet it would be a mistake to suppose that perception 
— that is, the perceptive phase of thought — is confined to 
cognitions which in the strict or absolute sense are imme- 
diate. Every secondary, or acquired^ sense-perception in- 
volves an inference. The immense majority of our external 
perceptions are of this kind. The very word " perception," 
though now applicable to cognitions which are immediate, prob- 
ably signified originally a learning through the use of means. 

In like manner the reproductive phase of thought includes 
more than the mere reproduction of thought. In all the higher 



234 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXX. 

emploj'ments of the fantas}' the reproductive power simplj^ fur- 
nishes materials, which then are elaborated hy poetical skill 
and judgment. 

The discursive phase, also, may be the subject of inadequate 
conception. The " discourse of reason," as it is called, is only 
the more prominent method, or manifestation, of that faculty 
whereby man seeks to perfect and extend his knowledge of 
things. There is also what has been called the "intuition of 
reason," from which the discourse of reason originates, and 
which may be conceived to take place without the latter. This 
intuition is simply that clear analytical perception of elements 
and relations of which brutes are incapable, unless in a verj' low 
degree, and the development of which gives to the human un- 
derstanding its peculiar and penetrating power. It is with refer- 
ence to these two modes of rational activity that the division 
of reason into intuitive and discursive ma}' be best maintained. 
The penetrating anal3'tical apprehension of the nature or com- 
position of objects is a condition of the discursive processes of 
reason, and is the chief and the ultimate source of the distinc- 
tive character of the rational faculty- ; but this apprehension is 
mostl}' to be found and seen onlj- in connection with those 
discursive processes — such as formal generalization, analysis, 
synthesis, and inference — which are discussed in the _ j^hiloso- 
ph}' of logic. Moreover, language expresses the operations of 
reason only as the}' are discursive. 

With reference, therefore, to its notable manifestation we 
ma}' rightly style reason the discursive facult}' ; remembering 
at the same time that the discursus mentis is not the whole 
work of reason, but only its full and principal development. 
The same extension of meaning takes place w^hen, in English, 
"the understanding" is used as equivalent to "the reason," 
and when, in Greek, rj SidvoLa is used as equivalent to 6 vovs ; 
for 7} 8tai/ota, "the discursive faculty," and "the understand- 
ing " are all interchangeable terms. 

With the foregoing explanations such definitions as 
pimsfs^"* the following of the three grand phases of mental 
finec?^**^^ activity may prove sufficient. The perceptive phase 
is composed of perceptions which are either imme- 
diate, or which closely and invariably follow upon those which 
are immediate. It exists whenever there is immediacy of per- 
ception ; and there is a sense according to which it includes 
immediate perceptions only. It excludes all formal inference, 
or such as deserves the name of reasoning. The reproductive 
phase comprises every form of the reproduction and elaboration 
of knowledge and thought which the purposes of contemplation, 



Chap. XXX.] THE PHASES OF INTELLECT. 235 

as distinguished from those of understanding and of rational 
conviction, call for. The discursive phase inckides all those 
operations in which, for the ends of understanding and convic- 
tion, we use that power of intellectual penetration and compre- 
hension which is called reason, and which especially manifests 
itself in the discursive or logical processes of mind. 

The prominent feature of the first phase is the immediate cog- 
nition of things ; of the second, the reproduction of ideas ; of 
the third, that elaboration of thought in the practice of which 
we form clear and distinct conceptions of things, and reason 
consecutivel}' concerning them. 

Thepercep- 2. Let US now Concentrate our attention upon the 
oKiiiaS^v perceptive intellect. The most important doctrine to 
of all thougbt be taught concerning this facult}' is that it furnishes 
d^aiSs'ti'^aii man. the materials out of which all his ideas are 
conviction, composcd, and lays the foundations on which all his 
knowledge and convictions rest. More particularly, we sa}^, 
first, that perception originates the conceptions of things per- 
ceived, while all other conceptions and constructions of thought 
are obtained b}^ the analysis of presentational conceptions and 
the synthesis of their elements ; and, seconcUj^, we sa}^ that per- 
ception originates its own convictions, while other convictions 
are either actuialistic inferences, which rest their truth entirely 
upon perceptions as their actualistic basis, or h3'pothetical in- 
ferences, whose whole value lies in the possibility of their at- 
taining actualistic force b}^ becoming connected with perceived 
fact. For here we exclude, or rather include, inferences of 
possibilit}^ and of probabilit}', as these accompany or rest upon 
necessitudinal inferences, and are related in the same general 
way, though less directly, to presentational knowledge. 

The originative and primordial character of perception is 
therefore twofold, and is related, first, to the ideas, and, 
secondl}^, to the beliefs, or convictions, of the mind. With 
regard to ideas it is not denied that we have man}' thoughts 
other than perceptions, and many, too, diflfering greatl}^ in their 
style and structure from the conceptions obtained b}' cognition : 
it is only held that no element of conception can be found which 
has not first appeared as an element in perception ; and that the 
presentative faculty furnishes all the 'materials of thought., the 
work of other faculties, so far as thought is concerned, being 
confined to reproduction and elaboration. 

Locke quoted "^^^ ^^'^^ philosopher wlio fuUj' pcrceivcd the truth 
and com- and importance of this doctrine was John Locke. For 
mended. .j.j^|g reason Locke may justl}' divide with Descartes 
the honor of inaugurating modern metaphysical progress, and 



236 "^ MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXX. 

lua}^ even claim the greater share. While Descartes was first 
to break loose from the false scholastic methods of interpreting 
thonght and belief, Locke was the first to indicate and adopt 
the true method. The first book of the " Essaj^ on the Hu- 
man Understanding" directly combats the doctrine of innate 
ideas; the second opens by giving the "original" whence all 
our ideas are derived. "Let us," says Locke, "suppose the 
mind to be, as we say, white paper, void of all characters, with- 
out any ideas ; how comes it to be furnished ? Whence comes 
it by that vast store which the busy and boundless fancy of man 
has painted on it, with an almost endless variet}' ? Whence has 
it all the materials of reason and knowledge ? To this I answer, 
in one word, from experience. In that all our knowledge is 
founded, and from that it ultimately derives itself. Our obser- 
vation, emploj^ed either about external sensible objects or about 
the internal operations of our minds, perceived and reflected on 
by ourselves, is that which supplies the understanding with the 
materials of thinking. . . . These two, I say, — viz., external 
material things, as the objects of sensation ; and the operations 
of our own minds, as the objects of reflection, — are to me the 
only originals whence all our ideas take their beginning. . . . 
The understanding seems to me not to have the least glimmering 
of any ideas which it doth not receive from one of these two." 

Thus Locke taught that sensation and reflection, or what we 
now call sense-perception and consciousness, as the modes of 
immediate perception, furnish all the materials of thought. 

In the subsequent books of the " Essay," the development 
of this doctrine is attended with considerable obscurity. This 
arises partly from an imperfect recognition and analysis of the 
operation of the secondary powers of mind, but chiefl}- from that 
unnatural enlargement of the conceptions of sense-perception 
and consciousness whereby the}" are made to include all of our 
presentative cognitions. This enlargement, in violating certain 
common combinations of thought and speech, renders the per- 
plexity of the reader almost a matter of necessit}" ; for men 
allow another class of perceptions, additional to the two which 
Locke mentions, though inseparably" concomitant of them. 

Ordinary language permits us to say that material bodies, 
with their qualities and operations, are perceived in the cogni- 
tions of sense ; and that the soul, its powers, and its activities 
are the objects of consciousness. But we cannot properly speak 
of feeling, seeing, or hearing such things as spaces, times, or 
relations, nor are we properly conscious of our mental states as 
being causes or eff'ects, or as having number, or diflTerence, or 
similaritj", or succession. Such language, if used, is secondary 



Chap. XXX.] THE PHASES OF INTELLECT. 237 

and improper. Therefore, while accepting Locke's doctrine, we 
think that clearness of statement calls for a threefold division of 
the perceptive phase of intellect. 

The fact that concomitant perception acts only in connection 
with the other two modes of presentational thought does indeed 
excuse Locke's division and its general adoption by subsequent 
writers ; yet, in metaphysical philosophy, it is often advan- 
tageous and even necessary to distinguish, and to consider 
separately, things which are inseparably united. 
Pre tion is ^* convictions of perception, in their relation to 

not the origin all our otlicr couvictions, are primordial. In other 
tfon^inThi^ ^^^'^^^' ^^^^y ^^^ ^^^^ beginnings of all knowledge 
same sense in and belief. This relation has not at all been so 
tbe^origiifof thoroughly Considered as that of the thoughts., or 
tionr^^^^' iV^eas, of presentation, to our other thoughts, or ideas. 
We trace this neglect to the fact that the difference 
between thought and belief has been greatlj' overlooked and un- 
consciously belittled by philosophers ; so much so that man}', 
if not most, have treated belief as if it were merel}' either a 
clearer exercise of thought or a specific combination of ideas. 

Were either of these opinions correct, we would naturally 
suppose the convictions of perception to be related to our other 
convictions simply in the same way that the conceptions of 
perception are related to our other conceptions ; in other words, 
we would hold that all other than presentational convictions are 
formed from these latter merely by analysis and composition, — 
a doctrine which would not be true. 

The want of any tangible distinction between thought and 
belief, in Locke's writings, necessarily affected them with am- 
biguity and left them open to serious misunderstanding. Such 
ambiguity is especially apparent when he says that experience 
is " the original [or origin] of all knowledge.'' For knowl- 
edge is thought considered, not simply in itself, but as accom- 
panied by certain and ioell-foii7ided conviction ; and while it 
is true that experience furnishes all the ideal, or conceptual, 
elements of knowledge, it is not true that it furnishes all the 
convictional elements of it. The ver}^ nature of inferential 
knowledge is to project itself beyond the range of presentational 
cognition. Yet Locke certainl}' intended to teach that experi- 
ence — that is, presentative cognition — is the origin of all belief 
as well as of all thought ; and he taught this doctrine without 
apprehending its duplex nature, and without perceiving that a 
true account of the origin of our convictions must difler materi- 
all}' from a true account of the origin of our conceptions. 

His teaching, however, as to the origin of our convictions is 



238 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXX. 

obscure rather than incorrect. In a very important sense, pre- 
sentation is the origin of all knowledge and belief. Locke does 
not say that subsequent couAdctions are merelj^ the reproduction 
and elaboration of those which are presentational ; but only that 
*' perception is the first step and degree towards knowledge, and 
the inlet of all the materials of it." 

The differ- ^^ Cannot, therefore, agree with the great German 
ence between contemporary and opponent of Locke, Gottfried Wil- 
Lefbnitz!^ helm Leibnitz, when he says: "In Locke there are 
The phrase some particulars not ill expounded; but upon the 
teiiectu?" ^"' whole he has wandered far from the gate, and has 
discussed, j^q^ understood the nature of the intellect." On the 
contrary, the same cause of obscurity which affected Locke's 
doctrine equally affects the refutation of it attempted by Leib- 
nitz in his " Nouveaux Essais." In these he teaches that many 
" ideas and truths are innate " to the mind. By this, he sa3's, 
we are to understand, not that they have been in conscious pos- 
session from birth, nor 3'et that they have no need of experience 
as an occasioti for their apprehension, but that perception is not 
at all the origin or source of them, and that they are produced 
b}' another and higher power. 

This teaching of Leibnitz has been accepted by later philo- 
sophers, especially' by many who claim for man a power of 
"intuition" or "common sense." But it is no necessar}^ part 
of modern " intuitionalism ; " and so far as it sets forth a source 
of ideas other than presentative perception, it is positively 
wrong. Locke's " Essay" is only negatively wrong in not dis- 
tinctly recognizing, in certain phases of conviction, an element 
which is not derived from presentation. 

A good view of this whole subject may be obtained from a 
consideration of that pithy statement in which Leibnitz expresses 
his dissent from Locke. In modification of the Aristotelian 
aphorism, " Nihil in intellectu quod non prius in sensu," Leib- 
nitz adds, " nisi ipse intellectus." Here, in justice to both 
parties, the term " sense" must signify, not sensation, nor even 
sense-perception, but presentative cognition in general. This 
use of terms is similar to that according to which consciousness, 
as a perception connected with feeling, has been called man's 
internal or spiritual sense. Indeed, Locke speaks expressly of 
" external and internal sensation." The term " intellect," also, 
must here signify the mind in its higher, or rational, phase of 
activit3\ And as this intellect can contain only two kinds of 
things, conceptions and convictions, the statement that there is 
nothing in intellect which has not been previously in perception 
means that every constituent element of conception and of con- 



Chap. XXX.] THE PHASES OF INTELLECT. 239 

viction is furnished by the presentative facult}^ In opposition 
to which doctrine, and in the phrase " except intellect itself," 
we are taught that mind has a power of generating thought and 
conviction altogether different from the power of immediate cog- 
nition. Such, at any rate, is a fair statement of the view of 
Leibnitz as opposed to that of Locke. 

So far as the origin of our thoughts or ideas is concerned, 
we prefer Locke to Leibnitz. At the same time the opinions of 
these illustrious men might be harmonized, and that, too, with- 
out any violent change in either opinion, if the following state- 
ments should be accepted as true : — 

1. It seems clear that powers of thinking and believing are 
born with, and innate to, the human soul. 

2. The faculties of reproduction, analysis, and composition 
exist in addition to the perceptive faculty. 

3. Presentation furnishes the elements of all thought or con- 
ception, considered merely as thought and aside from any 
accompaniment of belief. The sameness of the reproduced ele- 
ments, however, is not literal, but only such as we ascribe to a 
repeated activity. 

4. The convictions, as well as the conceptions, of the pre- 
sentational intellect may be recalled, anal3'zed, and combined. 

5. We can and do immediately perceive that necessitudinal 
connection whereby individual facts may be related to each 
other as antecedent and consequent, which perception is not 
inference (both facts being presentatively perceived) , yet forms 
that same construction of thought which inference afterwards 
employs. 

6. This inference, or reasoning, as a power and mode of be- 
lief, is something wholl}^ additional to presentational conviction, 
and is not a derivative or secondary form of the same thing. 

7. But at the same time presentation not only furnishes the 
necessitudinal modes of thought which inference emplo3's, but 
also is the only idtiinate ground of real conviction ; for an 
antecedent must in some wa}^ have presentational evidence for 
its existence, before any consequent of it can be really known 
to be. 

No one of the principles now enumerated can be neglected, 
or denied, or confounded with another, without leading to a 
confused or one-sided statement of the truth. The importance 
and the correctness of them cannot be further shown at present, 
but will become apparent in connection with future discussions. 



240 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXL 

CHAPTER XXXL 

THE PERCEPTIVE, OR COGNITIVE, PHASE. 

The objects 1. LEAVING the subjective for the objective rela- 
arJ'-^i! Keai"^ ^^^'^^ ^^ *^^^ perceptive facLilt}-, a threefold doctrine 
2. Individual; presents itsclf for consideration. In the first place, 
DeSartes^' the objcct of perception is real ; in the second, it is 
q}iO'«dan(i individual; and in the third, it is complex. The 
"Cogifco, ergo statement that the objects of our presentational cog- 
sum." nitions are real is the equivalent of another statement 
more frequentl}' discussed, — namel}-, that our immediate per- 
ceptions are reliable or trustworthy^ It is plain that presenta- 
tional thought, in its \qyj nature, asserts the existence of its 
objects, and that this existence can be gainsaid only bj^ denying 
the truth or soundness of this assertion. 

Ver}' few speculators have attempted that extreme of scepti- 
cism which questions the testimony of consciousness ; and those 
who, like David Hume, have done so, have not been able to 
produce anj^ real doubt, even in themselves, as to the fact of 
one's own life and being ; j^et they have succeeded to some 
extent in confusing, first themselves and then others, as to the 
method by which this fact may be philosophicall}^ proved. But 
man}' have theoreticallj' questioned, and even denied, the testi- 
mon}^ of the senses. 

This form of scepticism found nourishment in the doctrine of 
Plato that truth is gained onlj^ b}' contemplating the abstract 
and the universal, and in that scholastic mode of philosophizing 
which emplo^'ed deduction from general principles as the all- 
sufl[icient method of advancement in knowledge. Besides, the 
well-known facts that mistakes occasionall}' occur in connection 
with sense-cognition, and that dreams and hallucinations are 
attended with false belief, were cited against the reliability of 
external perception. 

When Pene Descartes felt himself forced to discard old doc- 
trines and methods, his difficulties with regard to the cognitions 
of sense led him to seek the foundations of certain knowledge in 
the perception of spiritual things. Confessing that he greatly 
doubted almost all things, he yet was sure that he doubted, and 
that he himself, the doubter, existed. In the first of his " Medi- 
tationes de Prima Philosophia," he shows, to his own satisfac- 
tion, that all things may be doubted save that we doubt, or 
rather that we think and have spiritual experience in general. 



Chap. XXXL] PERCEPTIVE, OR COGNITIVE, PHASE. 241 

In his second meditation he claims to have found the ttov o-tCo 
of Archimedes, — the fixed point on which to rest the lever of 
philosophic reasoning for the displacement of all false doctrines, 
and for the elevation of true conceptions into their rightful 
places. This was the certainty of the fact that he himself really 
doubted and thought. His words are : " Nonne ego ipse sum, 
qui jam dubito fere de omnibus, qui nonnihil tamen intelligo, 
qui hoc unum verum esse affirmo, nego csetera, cupio plura 
nosse, nolo decipi, multa vel invitus imaginor, multa etiam 
tamquam a sensibus venientia animadverto ? " and he expresses 
this irresistible conviction of his own existence as a thinking 
being in the famous sentence, " Cogito, ergo sum." 

By this formula we are to understand, not that one's existence 
is either a part or a consequence of one's thought, but only 
that the certain knowledge of one's thinking involves the knowl- 
edge of the existence both of the thought and of the thinker. 
Descartes expressly says : " Neque etiam qui dicit ' ego cogito, 
ergo sum sive existo,' existentiam ex cogitatione per syllogis- 
mum deducit, sed tanquam rem per se notam simplici mentis 
intuitu agnoscit" ("For he who says, 'I think, therefore I 
am,' does not infer existence sjllogistically, but by simple 
intuition perceives a thing self-evident"). In other words, 
Descartes assumed, or posited, certain knowledge of our own 
inward life and being. 

From this circumstance some have supposed that he held con- 
sciousness to be the primordial source of conviction. Such, 
however, is not a fair presentation of his doctrine ; for he found 
the source of the reliabiUt}" of our internal perceptions, not in the 
power of the simple and direct cognition of that to which the ac- 
tive life of the soul ma}" be immediately related, but in that clear- 
ness and distinctness which he found particular!}' to characterize 
certain modes of thought. He does not say, ' ' Conscius sum cogi- 
tandi, ergo sum," but onl}^ " Cogito^ ergo sum." Thus Descartes 
came very near hitting the truth, yet missed it altogether, and 
went off Uke a comet into the abyss of hypothetical speculation. 

"In this first knowledge which I have acquired," sa3'S he, 
" nothing but the clear and distinct perception of that which 
I assert assured me of its truth ; and this could not have so as- 
sured me if it were possible that an3'thing which I should con- 
ceive with the same clearness and distinctness should be false. 
Hence it seems to me that I may adopt the general rule that all 
things that I conceive very clearh' and distinctl}" are true." For 
the ^ovd percijno^ in the sentence, " Videor pro regula generah 
posse statuere, illud omne esse verum.^ quod valde dare et 
distincte percipio^' means any kind of clear apprehension. 

16 



242 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXI. 

Descartes, like Locke and Leibnitz after him, did not see the 
essential difference between thought and belief, and so was led 
to mistake clear and distinct conception for that irresistible and 
irrefragable conviction which is the special characteristic of 
knowledge. We may have clear and distinct conception of 
that which is false. This error of Descartes showed itself in 
the next step of his philosoph}^ In this he asserted the ex- 
istence of God simpl}" on the ground that the idea of God is 
natural to the soul. " Tota vis argumenti," he says, " in eo 
est, quod agnoscam fieri non posse ut existam talis naturae 
qualis sum, nempe, ideam Dei in me habens, nisi re vera Deus 
etiam existeret." This reasoning, and much more of the same 
kind b}^ the same author, is not satisfactorj'. At the present 
da}' Cartesianism has little value save as an illustration of the 
truth by way of contrast. 

Descartes' We must uot leave Descartes without mentioning 
trustiri<^Ms ^^^ argument justifying reliance upon the perceptions 
senses.*Tiie of sense. It is this : From the innate knowledge of 
Sven.^^iiSd t^^ Creator, which the soul possesses and develops, 
quoted. y^e Tiuow that God loves truth and abhors deceit ; 
therefore he cannot have given us a nature whose operation 
would he a continual deceptio7i. This reasoning seems good, 
provided the existence of God and his moral attributes can be 
showm without an}^ dependence on knowledge gained bj- the 
senses. This may be disputed ; and for another reason, also, 
the argument is unsatisfactor3\ Even granting it to be well 
founded, it is a proving of that which needs no proof, and which 
is plainest when presented alone and in the light of its own self- 
evidence. The weakness of the human intellect is such that in 
the course of abstract speculations it may be enticed to forsake 
that solid ground of conviction presented in perception, and to 
seek for evidence in nil sorts of argumentation ; and then for a 
time even visible and tangible facts — or, at least, our remem- 
brance of them — may be surrounded by the clouds of doubt 
and of confusion. 

A more satisfactory way of defending the primar}^ convictions 
of the mind is to exhibit them in their own self-evidence ; and 
this is to be done b}^ clearness of statement and of illustration. 
It may be shown also that an}' denial of the self-e\'ident involves 
absurdity, which mode of proof, however, is often only a varia- 
tion of that just mentioned, the absurdit}' being inherent in the 
ver}' contradiction of the truth, and not arising from the conflict 
of this with some other truth of a different nature. And, finally, 
the unsoundness of objections or difficulties may be shown, 
according to the best of one's ability. 



Chap. XXXL] PERCEPTIVE, OR COGNITIVE, PHASE. 243 

Self-evident truths are mostly presented in forms of thought 
which are general and secondar}^ and in which the full force of 
oiiginal conviction is somewhat abated. Strictl}' speaking, only 
those intuitions are self-evident in which truth and fact are first 
perceived I)}' the mind ; and general forms of thought are 
styled intuitive and self-evident^ only because they may imme- 
diately represent or symbolize our primary convictions. On 
this account the truth of such generalized intuitions must be 
evinced b}^ the empWment of instances. In the case of presen- 
tational perceptions this is easily done. Let an}^ one for a few 
minutes attend to his own experience ; he will see that his belief 
in the reality of his inward life and of his immediate surround- 
ings is something over which he has no control, something abso- 
lutel}' irresistible. Should he attempt for a time to reject the 
evidence of his consciousness and his senses, and to believe 
something contrary to it, — for example, that he is a motionless 
and insensible block of stone or ice, — he will immediatel}^ be 
convinced of the impossibility and absurdity of such a task. 

The objections to the truthfulness of our presentational knowl- 
edge can be shown to be simply ingenious fallacies, and for the 
most part founded on exploded theories. But were the}' ever 
so subtile and unanswerable, they could not even for one mo- 
ment affect our real belief in the existence of an external and 
of an internal world. As Reid says, "The statesman continues 
to plod, the soldier to fight, and the merchant to export and 
import, without being in the least moved by the demonstrations 
that have been ofiered of the non-existence of those things about 
which they are so seriously emplo3'ed*; and a man ma}' as soon 
by reasoning pull the moon out of her orbit as destro}^ the belief 
of the objects of sense." 

Theindivid- 2. The doctrine of the individuality of things per- 
»«}ity of tiie ceived does not call for extended consideration ; it fol- 
peiception lows directl}' from the more general truth that all real 
proved. tilings are individuals. But we should notice that it 
is a double doctrine, and involves both a statement of simple 
fact and a statement of necessit}'. It is true both that all things 
perceived — that is, all that have been perceived — are individ- 
uals, and that all things perceived, including those yet to be per- 
ceived, must be individuals. Whichever phase of the doctrine 
we take, we can trace the origin of it to presentational thought. 
The first phase is simpi}' a generalization from our immediate 
perceptions ; while the second arises because, when we perceive 
objects to be individuals, we perceive also that this is necessary 
in the case of those objects^ and that, too, simpl}^ b}' reason of 
their nature as real entities. Thereupon, because whatever is 



244 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXI. 

true of the particular b}^ reason of its generic character is true 
also of the general or universal, we infer and affirm that all real 
entities whatever must likewise be individuals. 

3. We shall now consider whether the objects of 
ofdie^om-'^ presentative thought are complex or not. Sir William 
tirn^^^ ^\ Hamilton states this question clearlj^, though with spe- 
ceil'ld seated cial regard to external cognition, in the following 
aLuSuss" langu^g^ = "Whether, in perception, do we first ob- 
ed. The ques- tain a general knowledge of the complex wholes pre- 
primum ^ scutcd to US by scusc, and then, by analysis and 
cognttum limited attention, obtain a special knowledge of the 

louriold. ' o J T • < • 1 

several parts ; or do we not first obtain a particular 
knowledge of the smallest parts to which sense is competent, 
and then, by S3'nthesis, collect them into greater and greater 
wholes ? " The subject thus presented may be treated as one 
branch of a wide inquirj^ formerly prosecuted under the head 
of the primum cognitum^ or, as we might say, of "first cog- 
nitions." Cognitions may be first either in that capacity which 
is the most important characteristic of all perceptions, and with 
which we are now more immediatelj^ concerned, — that is, as the 
origin of all knowledge ; or the}' may be first as belonging to 
the commencement of human life; or as connected with the 
first formation of language ; or as entertained by the mind 
at its entra7ice upon some methodical investigation. We hold 
that knowledge which is first in any one of these modes is 
always more or less complex, and that the distinct cognition, 
either of elements or of minute parts, is gained afterwards by 
attention and analysis. 

Our ordinary "^^ ^^® uow coutcuds that the inseparable meta- 
perceptions ph3'sical Constituents of things are separateh^ per- 
compex. ceived in cognition. To this extent an initial 
complexity or sj'nthesis is allowed to presentational thought, 
at least by all who recognize the existence of metaphysical 
parts. One's perception of a shining drop of dew might in- 
clude the cognition of its body, size, shape, place, color, trans- 
parenc}', fluidity, and brilliancy. Though one or another of 
these attributes would probably affect the mind more sensibly 
than the rest, they yet might all be perceived at once, and a dis- 
tinct notion of each of them would only be obtained afterwards. 
Professor Dugald Stewart held a different doctrine from this. 
Influenced b}' the teaching of previous writers, that the soul, 
being unextended and indivisible, cannot have diff"erent simul- 
taneous modifications, he maintained that the perception of the 
mind at an}- one time is confined to what he termed the miin- 
mum visibile, or what might be more adequately called the 



Chap. XXXI.] PERCEPTIVE, OR COGNITIVE, PHASE. 245 

minimum perceptibile; and he ascribed the apparent ins tan ta- 
neousness of the perception of wholes to the rapidit}^ of mental 
action. This view, together with the parent assumption that the 
soul is incapable of more than one modification at a time, has 
been rejected as unfounded and improbable. Consciousness tes- 
tifies that wholes of considerable complication can be perceived 
by the mind without tmy process and in one simple exertion of 
energ3\ The different parts of the object, — of a lamp, or ink- 
stand, or chair, or table, — together with the connecting relations 
of the parts, are apparentl}^ perceived as quickly' and as simul- 
taneously as the whole figure of a man is reflected from a mirror. 

Were this statement in need of formal proof, no more ingeni- 
ous argument could be desired than one which is emplo3'ed by 
Sir William Hamilton. He calls attention to the fact that the 
face of a friend is much more easily recalled in its general out- 
line than in its particular features. It is often found diflflcult to 
remember exactlj' the color of the hair or ej^es, or the lines of the 
mouth or nose, of some perfectly well-known friend. But such 
a result could scarcely be expected were the parts of the face 
ahvays first perceived in succession, and after that combined, as 
Stewart says, with the assistance of " the faculty of memory." 

At the sam.e time we must remark that in adult or developed 
perception the idea of the object is generally filled out from 
previous knowledge. When we speak of seeing a stone, or any- 
thing else which is hard, the idea of hardness is supplied by the 
mind from knowledge acquired through touch. Such percep- 
tion is double ; yet probably no more time intervenes between 
the commencement and the completion of it than that which 
must elapse between the reflections from a looking-glass of the 
nearer and of the more distant parts of an object. 
The first per- "^^^ character of the perceptions of a new-born in- 
ceptions of fant must be chiefly a matter of analogical conjecture. 
iironSense ^^^ Comparison with that developed character which 
more com- they soon attain, they are doubtless wanting greatl}^ 
ano'tiier less, not in vividucss, but in that distinction and separation 
after litr^ °^ ^^ things which results from an exercise of the analytic 
power. Though it would be hazardous to say respect- 
ing any doctrine whatever that it has not been upheld b3' some 
philosopher, we have never yet heard of any one who maintained 
that children an hour, or a day, or even a week, old are given to 
attentive and discriminating thought, and the practical question 
might be printed as a prose quotation in the line with the rest of 
the sentence if you find this necessary. 

The thinking power of 

" The baby, new to earth and sky," 



246 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXI. 

may be supposed to be occupied simply with two comprehensive 
and ever-vaiying conceptions. All things other than the con- 
scious spirit and its life probably appear to it as one complicated 
and fluctuating non-ego.^ surrounding the soul and affecting it on 
every hand ; while at the same time the soul perceives itself as 
the diversely sentient and thinking ego. Plainlj^, this mode of 
thought would be more confused and complex than that of our 
ordinarj^ perceptions. But we maj' conjecture it to be followed 
by a phase of mind in which attention is specially given to the 
cognitions of one sense at a time, — in which, for example, the 
infant considers simply the visible appearance of some toy, or of 
a hand or foot, to the exclusion of those qualities which are ap- 
prehended in connection with muscular and tactile sensations. 
The conceptions thus formed would, in one respect at least, be 
less complex than those of our daily life. But, finall}' , the child 
learns that the world around him, with its scenes and agencies, 
is not a mass of confused and intermingling parts, — that many 
material forms may easily be distinguished, and that objects 
definitel}^ perceived by one sense can be identified with the ob- 
jects of other senses. So, at last, hands and feet, fingers and 
toes, persons and things, become individually marked and known. 
At the same time the young spirit begins to discern different 
general modes in its own life ; sensation, thought, fear, desire, 
occasional!}^ succeed in attracting some slight attention. Then 
perception may be supposed to have assumed its normal char- 
acter, and to be ready for whatever increase in quickness and 
power is to be obtained through future practice. 
The state of "^^^ coguition, or rather the knowledge, which con- 
thought at ditions the first formation and use of language, is more 
mat?o?or" advanced than that of presentative thought ; as is that, 
language, also, the possession of which is prerequisite to formal 
scientific or philosophical investigation. These, however, are 
illustrative of the general complexity of our earlier modes of 
thinking, and may be noticed in the present connection. Ham- 
ilton unadvisedly, we think, regards the question of the primmn 
cognitum as appUcable only to the origin of language, and gives 
the following statement of it: ''Does language originate in 
general appellatives or by proper names ? " 

Without following the course of his discussion, we shall pre- 
sent what seems a reasonable answer. First, it appears evident 
that a considerable degree of mental development is necessary 
to the first use of language. Long before children begin to speak 
they possess general notions, and are able to think by means of 
them. It is true that many of their ideas are particular. Their 
conceptions of the diflTerent members of the famil}' to which they 



Chap. XXXI.] PERCEPTIVE, OR COGNITIVE, PHASE. 247 

belong, of the different apartments of the house in which they 
live, and of the permanent objects within and about their home, are 
individual, or singular. But they have perceptions also of things 
which are continually changed and replaced hj others of a sim- 
ilar character ; and it is impossible that they should not form 
general ideas' in connection with such perceptions. Not to speak 
of the modes of their own life which repeat themselves in rapid 
succession, classes of things, such as cups, saucers, plates, 
knives, forks, spoons, tables, chairs, and other articles of daily 
use, together with general notions, such as bread, butter, milk, 
water, wood, coal, which represent things of daily consumption, 
must find a place among their thoughts. It is unlikely, there- 
fore, that human language at any stage of its development ever 
consisted wholly of proper names, or even that all words are 
first employed and understood by children as applicable only 
to singular objects. On the contrary, when children ask for a 
spoon or cup, a piece of bread or a glass of water, as they do so 
soon as they can talk at all, thej^ are using common nouns in 
their appropriate significance. 

At the same time it is true that the very first words used by 
children are either proper names or terms which the}^ take for 
such, and which are not as 3^et understood hy them to have a 
common applicabilit3\ Locke, and Aristotle before him, are only 
two out of a long line of philosophers who have remarked that 
the little ones at first use appellatives, such as papa, mamma, 
nurse, aunt, in just the same waj^ as they do proper names, such 
as Edward or Eliza, not knowing that the former have a general 
meaning, while the latter are individual properties. So, also, 
often in ver\^ early life, the cow, the horse, and the dog are names 
which represent individual animals ox\\y. The same philosophers 
remark that the action of the mind in forming general notions is 
instanced by the readiness with which terms are transferred from 
a singular to a common signification. A child who has learned 
to say papa and mamma will call ever}^ man he sees a papa and 
every woman a mamma. Very soon, however, such mistakes 
are corrected, and words are employed properly. 

But the law of thought, that the complex and particular pre- 
cedes the abstract and general, affects the language of adults no 
less than that of children. Numberless instances might be ad- 
duced in which the individual fact has lent its own proper name 
for a general service ; and many are of special interest. The 
verb 'Mneander" was originally a noun designating a winding 
stream in Asia Minor. Buncombe, which is the name of a county 
in North Carolina, came to signif}^ the making of speeches for 
the sake of distant popular effect, by reason of the remark of a 



248 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXI. 

rough old mountaineer, Felix Walker, who once represented that 
count}^ in the State Legislature. His fellow-members were tired 
of the old man's rustic oratory. Some shouted, " Question, 
question ; " others begged him to desist. But he could not be 
stopped; "for," said he, " I am bound to make a speech for 
Buncombe." Jack Ketch, which is a common English expres- 
sion for hangman, w^as at first the proper name of a man who 
busily discharged the duties of that office during the '^blood}^ 
assizes" of Lord Jeffreys, in the reign of James the Second. 
The term " Czar," or " Kaiser," is an enduring monument of that 
supreme authority which Julius Caesar once obtained for himself 
over the ancient world; while " Emperor," which is from the 
Latin " Imperator," and is the English equivalent of "Czar," 
also dates its origin from the times of Caesar ; for, being unwilhng 
to offend Roman ears by the designation " king," he contented 
himself with this military title. 

The doctrine of the priority of the complex in the history of 
mental development is also supported b}^ the fact that our more 
abstract nouns are, for the most part, of late appearance, as 
compared with those more concrete. Such words as " animal," 
" quadruped," " mammal," which present certain aspects of that 
natural genus to which horses, cows, dogs, cats, and other like 
species belong, are of later use than these specific names. Gram- 
marians, also, note that modern languages are analytic, while the 
ancient are synthetic, in modes of expression, — which circum- 
stance indicates a kind of unconscious public progress in dis- 
criminating and abstractive conception. 

Science After all that has been said, we need not dwell on 

starts from the doctrine that the knowledge with which any science 
tion"ofthe^' begins is more complex than that afterwards attained, 
complex. This is simply to sa}^ that the analytic is the only reli- 
able method in scientific investigation. For if this be granted, 
it is plain that the knowledge of attentiA^e observation is that 
with which philosophizing commences, and that this knowledge 
is more complex than the general conceptions and principles 
which ma}^ be evolved from it hy means of right thinking. Few 
now hold the contrarj^ doctrine, though too man}^ 3-et conform 
their practice to antiquated methods. Very few deny that our 
knowledge of the general is originally derived from our percep- 
tion of the individual. And no fact is better attested by the 
past history of philosophy than that those who will construct 
science, whether physical or mental, from abstract principles un- 
supported by induction or generalization from particulars, are 
devoting their lives to the accomplishment of failures. 



Chap!xxxil] consciousness. 249 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

CONSCIOUSNESS. 

The doctrine ^' ^^ *^® three subordinate modes of the presenta- 
of conscious- tive intellect, that immediately conditioned on sensa- 
tijan u™?of tion, and therefore called sense-perception, is more 
sense-percep- noticeable than the rest, involves a greater number of 
logically important questions, and has received more attention 
antecedent. f^Qi-^ philosophers. For that appearance of simplicity 
which characterizes our external perceptions, notwithstanding 
the real complexity and subtilt^' of most of them, has beguiled 
many into a task which the^' have found easier to begin than to 
finish. The problem of sense-perception has been the quoestio 
vexata of twenty centuries, and has reached a satisfactory- solu- 
tion only during the last one hundred 3'ears. 

Before attempting the discussion of it, let us consider the 
power of consciousness. For the action of this power is simpler 
than that of external perception, and also conditions it ; because 
material agents are ncA'er seen save in connection with the 
ps3'chical changes which they produce in us. 
The history The term " consciousness" signifies, literally, "an 
oftiieterm accompaiivlng knowledge." In this radical meaning 

"conscious- .- • ./ o -.i ,, . >> /^ • j* >» 

ness." The it IS synon3'mous with " conscience, or " conscientia, 
term "reflec-^lijch term, in mediaeval philosophy, was the ordinary 

tion"asem- • V i * ii • o^i 

ployed by exprcssior lor what we now call consciousness. Ihe 
Locke. scholastic definition of ' ' conscientia " was ' ' perceptio 

qua mens de preseuu suo statu admonetur." But our activities 
ma}^ be perceived either simply and as to their own essential na- 
ture ; or as being right or wrong, virtuous or vicious or indifferent, 
by reason of their relation to the moral law. Accordingly, two 
kinds of knowledge may be said immediately^ to accompany the 
life of a rational spirit. Thus the term " conscientia," as ex- 
pressing equally either of these kinds of knowledge, was affected 
with an ambiguity. This was avoided, in the English language, 
b}' forming the word " consciousness" and by surrendering the 
word " conscience " to a use purel}- ethical. . The ambiguity had 
been previously avoided by Latin writers, who emplo3'ed the 
term ' ' reflexio " for the notice taken by the mind of itself and 
its life ; and so when Locke wrote, a choice of terms was presented 
to him. Although Locke speaks of consciousness, and even 
gives the definition, " Consciousness is the perception of what 



250 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXII. 

passes in a man's own mind," he prefers reflection as the formal 
name of the power. 

Two reasons may have influenced this choice, perhaps uncon- 
scioush'. In the first place, reflection, which signifies the bend- 
ing back of the mind, natural!}' suggests an attentive or observant 
consciousness, by which only we can form clear and satisfactory 
ideas of what passes within. It is to such a consciousness that 
Locke constant!}^ appeals, though he does not distinguish it from 
consciousness in general. And, secondl}', the term '' reflection " 
admits an eas}^ though unscientific expansion of its meaning, so 
as to include and account for the cognition of certain things — • 
such as duration and succession and number — which are not, 
properh' speaking, perceived b}' consciousness, 3'et are perceived 
in immediate connection with the proper objects of consciousness. 
Locke, for example, distinctlj^ says that duration has "its idea 
from reflection on the train of our ideas." 

The use of the term " reflection " hy this great man illustrates 
his chief defect, which is a want of precision and exactitude 
both of thought and of expression. But, for all that, the " Essay 
on the Human Understanding " is a book blazing from beginning 
to end with independent and powerful thinking. " The other 
foundation," sa3^s Locke, "from which experience furnisheth 
the understanding with ideas, is the perception of the operations 
of our own mind within us, as it is employed about the ideas it 
has got ; which operations, when the soul comes to reflect on 
and consider, do furnish the understanding with another set of 
ideas which could not be had from things without ; and such are 
perception, thinking, doubting, believing, reasoning, knowing, 
willing, and all the different actings of our own minds ; which 
we, being conscious of, and observing in ourselves, do from 
these receive into our understanding as distinct ideas, as we do 
from bodies aff'ecting our senses. This source of ideas everj- 
man has wholly in himself; and though it be not sense, as hav- 
ing nothing to do with external objects, 5-et it is very like it, 
and might properly enough be called internal sense,^' 
Conscious- 2. Both before and since the publication of the "Es- 
ness defined, say," philosophers have defined consciousness as the 

Includes per- *'^^ii- - -^ x. ^ i 

ceptionof power oi the soul to perceive its own states and opera- 
itsV-me^s*^ tious. Thcsc, Undoubtedly, are the objects concerning 
Hnme which cousciousness is principally exercised. But it 

quote( . seems proper to say that we are conscious of the ego, 
or self, or spiritual substance, and of its powers, as well as of 
the operation of the powers of the ego. In all acts of conscious- 
ness, and in these acts only, we perceive, as one complex object, 
the ego, its power, and its activity; which cognition, moreover, is 



Chap. XXXII.] CONSCIOUSNESS. 251 

all trul}^ concomitant of our thought and experience as related 
to other objects. President Porter sa3^s rightty, " We are di- 
rectly conscious of the ego itself ; " to which we take the liberty 
of adding, " and of its powers also." 

This doctrine, that the soul is immediately cognizant of itself 
and its powers, would, we have no doubt, have received the 
approval of Locke ; yet it was never directl}^ taught by him. 
This omission left opportunit}^ for subsequent writers, who ac- 
cepted " sensation and reflection " as the ' ' original of all knowl- 
edge," to question whether any such things as the soul and its 
powers are ever perceived to be. Hume, in his usual pleasant 
wa}', sa3's : " For m,y part, when I enter most intimately into 
what I call myself, I always stumble on some particular percep- 
tion or other, of heat or cold, light or shade, love or hatred, 
pain or pleasure. I never can catch myself at au}^ time without 
a perception, and never can observe anjthing but the percep- 
tion. ... If any one, upon serious and unprejudiced reflection, 
thinks he has a different notion of himself, I must confess I 
can no longer reason with him. . . . He maj' perhaps perceive 
something simple and continued, which he calls himself, though 
I am certain there is no such principle in me." To the same 
effect is the assertion of Stuart Mill : " M}' mind is but a series 
of feelings." It will be noticed that these statements are deduc- 
tions from an exclusive construction of the doctrine of con- 
sciousness^ — from the view that consciousness perceives only 
the operations of the ego. 

The best mode of dealing with such heresies is to confront 
them with the common sense of men, by which they are flatly 
contradicted, the ground of the contradiction being every man's 
own immediate cognition of himself. True, we never " catch 
ourselves at any time without some perception or other." But 
this does not show that no ego exists and is known, but only 
that it is never seen save as in activit}". 

Theconce ^^ allow that the conception of self as distin- 

tionof"he^ guished from the conception of the ego^ — in other 
gnisiiedTrom'^^^'^^S' ^^® conccptiou of the cgo^ not simpl}' as exist- 
that of the ing at the present moment and with this present ac- 
^^^' tivit}^ but as an enduring entit}' with permanent 

characteristics, — requires something more than the exercise 
of mere consciousness. It includes the identification and the 
comparison of the ego and its present state with itself and its 
previous states, which acts involve memory. Indeed, the identi- 
fication of the ego as now existing with itself as existing for- 
merl}', is one of the elements which distinguish remembrance 
from every other exercise of the intellect. At the same time it 



252 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXII. 

is clear that if the ego of consciousness be admitted, the self of 
memory and of anticipation cannot long be rejected. 

Let us note, also, that the ego and the self msiy be conceived 
of abstractly and aside from the thought of any particular modi- 
fications. The notions of them expressed in language are not 
only formed in this wa}^ but have also a general character. 
Ego and self and the other personal pronouns, though not or- 
dinarily used to express general notions, are 3'et terms which 
have a common applicability, and whose singularity depends 
wholly on their individuality of application. But the ego^ of 
which one is conscious, is always perceived, not merelj^ as 
an individual, but also as affected with the modifications and 
relations of the present moment. 

3. The conception of consciousness which we' have 
ary^sfgnmca- been considering hitherto, may be regarded as the 
scIouseLss^" Pi*i™^0' ^"^ proper meaning of the term. From this 
two secondar}' senses are to be distinguished. Some- 
times the word, according to its original force, signifies a cog- 
nition accompanying some other cognition which more directly 
occupies the mind. A student, while engaged with his books, 
might be said to be conscious of the presence of some one in his 
room ; an orator, while speaking, might be said to be conscious 
of his power over some assembly. A criminal may be conscious 
of his guilt, a martyr of his innocence, a millionnaire of his 
wealth, a beautiful woman of her attractions. Such language, 
however, belongs chiefly to common life. 

On the other hand, there is a peculiar metonj'mical sense of 
the term " consciousness," which is emplo^'ed chieflj" b}" jDhiloso- 
phers, according to which it signifies, not the act or power of 
self-cognition, but all those internal affections and operations, 
taken collectivel}^ of which the soul is conscious. In this sense 
one's consciousness includes all his thoughts without exception ; 
it is the entire life of the soul considered as the object of one's 
experience or immediate cognition. Hence Hamilton's defini- 
tion is inadequate, in saying, " Consciousness is a comprehen- 
sive term for the complement of our cognitive energies." This 
statement could be accepted onl3' in case no other ps3'chical 
phenomena than those of cognition could be internally per- 
ceived ; or provided, at least, that usage had restricted the term 
"consciousness" to less than its natural application. Neither 
supposition is true. 

We must allow, however, that, according to the usus lo- 
quendi^ "the contents of one's consciousness" comprise only 
whatever is part of the active life of the soul. The soul itself 
and its powers are not included, though, as we have seen, we 



CHAP.XXXn.] CONSCIOUSNESS. 253 

may be said to be conscious of them also. The cause seems 
to be twofold : in the first place, the ordinary attention of con- 
sciousness is directed to the changing phenomena, and not to 
the permanent factors from which they originate ; and secondlj', 
a name is needed for these phenomena as a collective whole, 
whereas there is little or no need for a collective name to 
cover the soul, its powers, and its operations. 
Conscious ^' '^^^ point of principal difficult}^ in the doctrine of 

iiess a special consciousness is connected somewhat with the ambi- 
uityf^s^r^" o^ity with which the name of this facult}^ is affected 
Wm. Hamii- l)y rcasou of its diverse meanings. It may bo presented 
on quote , ^^^^^ , Consciousuess is a power of mind which has a 
distinct and special function of its own. This proposition has 
been strenuously controverted by Sir William Hamilton, and 
by other eminent writers both in Europe and America. In the 
eleventh lecture of his " Metaphysics," Hamilton sa3's : "Con- 
sciousness is not to he viewed as anything different from these 
modifications [of the ego~\ them,selues, but is, in fact, the general 
condition of their existence, or of their existence within the 
sphere of intelUgence." 

This teaching of Sir William must be condemned as inaccu- 
rate. He does not sa}" that the word " consciousness " is used 
in two senses, in one of which it signifies a power of internal 
cognition, and in the other those experiences, taken coUectivel}^, 
of which we are internally cognizant ; but he identifies our in- 
ternal perceptions with the activities perceived. We allow that 
no being can think or know, feel or desire, without being con- 
scious of these things, but hold, at the same time, that con- 
sciousness is an element of ps3'chical life additional to, and 
distinguishable from, the things of which we are conscious ; for 
our souls are capable of a complex of contemporaneous activi- 
ties. We can even be conscious of being conscious ; because 
this twofold act of self-knowledge merely adds one more element 
to the complex already experienced. 

In one case only, the exercise of consciousness ma}' be asserted 
to include its object. When we are conscious of any particular 
idea, — for example, the idea of the moon, — the knowledge that 
we have this conception necessarily repeats and includes the 
conception itself; for we know not merely that we are thinking, 
but that we are thinking of the moon. We cannot think of any 
thought without therein thinking that thought. But to be con- 
scious of a sensation or a desire, of a volition or an action, or of 
the confidence of belief or conviction, does not include these 
things, but onh^ the thought or conception of them, accompanied, 
of course, with a recognition of their reaUty. 



254 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXII. 

After Sir William has identified consciousness with those 
mental modifications which are the objects of it, we need not he 
surprised at his teaching that we can be conscious of external 
objects. For if it is the same thing to see a book or an ink- 
stand and to be conscious of seeing it, then certainly we are 
conscious of the book or the inkstand. But it is a philosophical 
weakness to identify things simply because they are inseparably 
connected ; and it is a palpable contradiction to say that a con- 
comitant cognition is the same as the experiences which it ac- 
companies. Paradoxes of this kind, even though presented by 
distinguished m.en, should not be accepted by us as express- 
ing wisdom till we have fuU}^ satisfied ourselves that they are 
not absurdities. 

Conscious- When sophistical difficulties are dismissed, how 

tent facf" pl^iu the fact remains that consciousness, though not 
Its specific a separately operative, is yet a distinct and peculiar, 
evSfenced mental power ! If modes of immediate cognition be 
by language, contrasted according to the difi'erences of things per- 
ceived, in their relation to the percipient ego^ then this faculty, 
which gives the knowledge of ps3^chical things, must be distin- 
guished from ever}' other. If we must recognize a faculty of 
external cognition, which nevertheless is conditioned by the 
perception of things internal, we must recognize also a faculty 
of internal cognition, which nevertheless is conditioned hy the 
perception of things external. How manifestly, too, conceptions 
originate from consciousness which are distinct from all others, 
and which could not come from any other source ! How could 
such ideas arise as seeing, thinking, believing, doubting, rea- 
soning, knowing, or such as enjoying, suffering, desiring, fear- 
ing, resolving, doing, if we had not a power of perceiving these 
things? All these notions are generalizations from the par- 
ticular cognitions of consciousness. 

The special action of this power, even in the case of our 
thoughts, is witnessed by such terms as "notion," "imagina- 
tion," " idea," " thought," " conception," which appl}^ to classes 
of mental states and operations. The use of such terms must 
have been preceded b}^ the individual perception of such states 
and operations ; and the conceptions which they express must 
have been obtained b}^ rejecting, or eliminating, from individual 
conceptions of ideas, the ideas themselves. The fact that we 
form abstract notions of mental activities indicates that the cog- 
nition of internal things is very naturally regarded as a distinct 
function, even while it combines with other functions in the same 
exercise of energy. In this case, as in man^^ others, common 
thought is able to separate the inseparable, and can reject as 



Chap.xxxil] consciousness. 255 

absurd the language of Hamilton when he declares himself con- 
scious of his table and his inkstand. 

The trust- ^' '^^^^ trustvvortliiness of the cognitions of cou- 
wortiiiness sciousuess is a doctrinc on which all philosophers have 
nes's'!" Mur" alwajs been agreed. We think it is the onl^^ one 
quoted. His which has ncvcr been disputed. This unanimity 
the ego dis- should be a matter of congratulation among the 
cussed. thoughtful brotherhood, though we suppose they would 

hardlj^ claim that they have each other to thank for it. Beyond 
question, if there were an}' possibilit}' of rejecting the authority 
of consciousness, some illustrious school of wise men would 
have done this long ago. WhatVarro says is true : "Nihil tam 
absurde dici potest, quod non dicatur ab aliquo philosophorum." 
No one, even of that considerable class whose originalit}- lies in 
paradoxical opposition to the common sense of men, has dared 
to broach a doctrine so untenable as the denial of the testimony 
of his own consciousness would be. When a man is suffering, 
how vain it is to tell him that there is no pain, that there is no 
such thing as pain ! The stoic may maintain that pain, at least 
for the virtuous, is not an evil, but the means of great and last- 
ing good ; but who that has had the toothache can denj^ the 
reality of pain? When we survey a landscape, when we study 
a lesson, when we remember an absent friend, when we are 
pleased with goodness or indignant at wrong-doing, when we 
have earnest desires or make high resolves or put forth strong 
exertions, when we feel exhausted with labor or are triumphant 
with success, how certain we are of the reality of these things 
as parts of the soul's experience ! 

Even that sceptical school who destroy our conceptions of 
knowledge and belief by identifying these things with the repro- 
duction of sensations and the association of ideas, admit that 
the revelations of consciousness are of immediate and absolute 
authority. Mr. John Stuart Mill, the associationalist Aristotle, 
in his ''Examination" of Sir William Hamilton's philosophy, 
condemns, as needless and unwise, au}^ attempt to prove the 
reliabihty of consciousness. "All the world," he sa3'S, " admits 
that it is impossible to doubt a fact of internal consciousness. 
To feel and not to know that we feel, is an impossibility. But 
Sir William Hamilton is not satisfied to let this truth rest on its 
own evidence ; he wants a demonstration of it. As if it were 
not sufficiently proved by consciousness itself, he attempts to 
prove it by a reditctio ad absiirdum.^* 

In view of statements such as these — which are made by associa- 
tionalists — we naturally inquire how these writers can reject that 
teaching of consciousness which asserts the existence of the ego and 



256 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXn. 

its powers. Any ordinary unsophisticated man will say that he is 
just as certain of the existence of himself and of his faculties of 
thought, feeling, and action, as he is regarding the operation of these 
faculties ; nor will he allow that his perception of himself, as a living 
being, is any less immediate and reliable than his perception of his 
spiritual life. He will even affirm that he desires no greater certainty 
respecting any fact than that which he experiences every moment re- 
specting the fact of his own existence. Those who admit the " self- 
evidence " of consciousness can defend their denial of the ego only 
in one way: they must claim that no such thing as an ego is ever 
perceived. 

To do this directly would be a declaration of open war upon the 
common sense and the common language of mankind. Therefore they 
permit us to speak of ourselves and our powers, and allow that such 
language sets forth reality. But they assert that the reality is differ- 
ent from what most of us take it to be. The problem, however, of 
explaining away the ego has not been found easy. Mr. Mill's expla- 
nation consists of two parts, the one of which supplements the other. 

Proceeding on the hypothesis that we know only that of which we 
are conscious, and that we are conscious only of feelings, and having 
defined the mind as " a thread of consciousness," or "a series of feel- 
ings," he first encounters the fact that " the thread of consciousness " 
consists " in part of memories and expectations. . . . These," he says, 
" include the belief that I myself formerly had, or that I myself and 
no other shall hereafter have, the sensations remembered or expected. 
The fact believed is that the sensations did actually form, or will 
hereafter form, part of the self-same series of states, or threads of 
consciousness, of which the remembrance or the expectation of those 
sensations is the part now present. If, therefore, we speak of the 
mind as a series of feelings, we are obliged to complete the statement 
by calling it a series of feelings lohich is aware of itself as past and future ; 
and we are reduced to the alternative of believing tha^ the mind, or 
ego, is something different from any series of feelings or possibilities 
of them, or of accepting the paradox that something which, ex liy- 
pothesi, is but a series of feelings can be aware of itself as a series." 

This reasoning is correct. It is true that the " fact " of the contin- 
ued existence of "the self-same series of states," in which the expe- 
rience of the past is united with that of the present and that of the 
future, can be known only through a recollection of the past, com- 
bined with a consciousness of the present, and an exercise of judgment 
which anticipates things to come. Here, therefore, three fundamental 
grounds of belief — consciousness, memory, axid judgment — are assumed. 
AVhat one of these can be explained as merely the reproduction of sen- 
sations, or the association of ideas ? We think that associationalists 
have no right to appeal to the testimony of such powers. Nevertheless, 
accepting the assumption as a statement of truth, the syllogism is 
perfect. The mind, which is but a series of feelings, is not only con- 
scious of its present feelings, but also remembers its past feelings, and 
expects others in the future. Therefore the mind is a series of feelings 
which is aware of itself as past and future. 

This nonsense is termed by Mr. Mill " that final inexplicability at 



Chap. XXXIL] CONSCIOUSNESS. 257 

■which we inevitably arrive when we reach ultimate facts." An ulti- 
mate fact may be inexplicable; it is not absurd. We do not wonder 
that Mr. Mill styles his doctrine a paradox. Who ever thought him- 
self to be a series of any kind? What mind was ever aware of itself 
as being a passing procession, or as being anything else than an en- 
during unit? It is strange that the noble intellect, which so clearly 
appreliended the absurdity, could not reject the hypothesis from which 
it springs, and accept the alternative that "the ego is something dif- 
ferent from any series of feelings or possibilities of them," — that the 
soul is something different from its states, though it is not to be seen 
save in connection with them. How wonderfully able thinkers, like 
Hume and Mill, can be deluded when once they have been led to 
adopt defective principles ! Theoretical disbelief in the ego is a direct 
result of the fundamental error that we have immediate cognition of 
phenomenal changes only. These gentlemen deny themselves to be 
conscious of their own existence, because that would be a surrender 
of their philosophy. 

The other part of Mr. Mill's doctrine regarding the ego 
Tliee(7onei- jg ^n explanation of the belief that the soul exists during 
ther a series ,-,•. '^ • • £ t. ^ • j • ^ 

of feelings the intermissions oi actual consciousness, and is supple- 

nor a pernio- men tary to the definition that mind "is but a series of 
fty^ot^Sing. ^^^^^'^S^-'' ^^ recognizing the necessity for a second state- 
ment, Mr. Mill assumes that one's unavoidable belief in 
his own existence is sufficient evidence of some fact to be acounted 
for; thus he admits the exercise of a power of judgment by which we 
believe in the existence of something which continues to exist as well 
when we are not conscious as when we are. Associationalism cannot 
even plausibly account for any such belief as this; indeed, noth- 
ing more exhibits the weakness of this system than the necessity, 
constantly encountered by its advocates, of assuming or admitting 
principles which have no proper place within their creed. This, how- 
ever, is not the ground of our objection to the reasoning of Mr. Mill. 

"The belief I entertain," he says, " that my mind exists when it is 
not feeling, nor thinking, nor conscious of its own existence, resolves 
itself into a belief of a permanent possibility of these states. If I 
think of myself as in a dreamless sleep or in the sleep of death, and 
believe that I — or, in other words, my mind — is or will be existing 
through these states, though not in conscious feeling, the most scru- 
pulous examination of my belief will not detect in it any fact actually 
believed, except that my capability of feeling is not in that interval 
permanently destroyed, and is suspended only because it does not meet 
with the combination* of outward circumstances which would call it 
into action; the moment it did meet with that combination, it would 
revive, and it remains therefore a permanent possibility." In this 
statement we are taught that mind exists, during intervals of uncon- 
sciousness, as a suspended capability of feeling, and that it is at all 
times a possibility of feeling, a permanent possibility. The word 
" capability," which Mr. Mill uses, properly signifies a kind of power, 
and might be regarded as exhibiting another indii'ect admission of 
truth ; passing that over, let us consider Mr. Mill's intentional teaching. 

Our first objection to it is that it denies the fact which it professes to 

17 



258 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap, XXXII. 

explain. We are ignorant of any conception of possibility that asso- 
ciationalism can form ; but we know what possibility is, and what it 
implies. In particular, we know that when we speak of the possi- 
bility of an entity which does not, yet may, exist, we are speaking of 
the consistency of the supposed existence of that entity with given 
fact, whether negative or positive; and that the entity, its existence, 
and its possibility, are merely hypothetical and ideal objects which 
do not exist at all. To make our continued existence the mere pos- 
sibility of that which does not exist, is to deny that continued exist- 
ence altogether. Such a possibility in itself is nothing at all. 

Our second objection to Mr. Mill's statement is that it really involves 
the fact which it is intended to disprove. It is impossible to assert a real 
possibility without admitting the condition, or conditions, on which it 
depends. Let us remember that the possibility of a non-existent entity 
may be either hypothetical or real. The former of these is an imaginary 
possibility, and is asserted simply on the supposition of conditions icliich 
are known not to exist. A fire would be hypothetically possible, but 
really impossible, on the supposition of the possession of fuel which 
yet cannot be procured. This possibility is entirely removed from 
reality; to make our continued existence the possibility of something, 
the conditions of which are only supposed to be, w^ould simpl}'^ empha- 
size the denial of our existence. But, on the other hand, if our con- 
tinued existence be a real possibility (which is the best conjecture we 
can make as to the meaning of Mr. Mill), then it is plain that some- 
thing must really exist as a foundation for this possibility. For that 
reality tchich is frequently ascribed to a possibility is metonymical, and sets 
forth only the reality of that on which the possibility depends. And now 
what else can be the condition of a permanent possibility of feeling 
than the continued existence of one's self and one's powers? 

Mill's conception of the ego, therefore, is doubly self-contradictory. 
First, it is self -contradictory in identifying reality with possibility, — 
the confessed reality of the ego with the mere possibility of a non- 
existent experience; secondly, it is self-contradictory in asserting a 
self-sustained possibility. For — we repeat it — a possibility has no 
reality of its own, and exists only in the existence of its own proper 
conditions. Beyond question there is within us a permanent pos- 
sibility of psychical experience; but this possibility exists, and can 
exist, only in the existence of the powers of the soul. 

The radical errors of association alism, including the de- 
t^'^a^trfcf "i^l of the ego, originated, historically, from the influence 
construction of Locke's doctrines upon a certain class of his disciples, 
doctrines^ The fundamental conceptions and principles of Locke are 
and to his marred by great want of definiteness, and should be re- 
<^«jj"ition of garded, not as statements whose perfection precludes cor- 
s ance. j-gction or addition, but as the first rude beginnings of a 
great philosophy. That class of disciples to which we have referred, 
have construed Locke's doctrine as to the primary sources of our 
knowledge very strictly; and then, with much logical skill but with 
little philosophical penetration, they have maintained that sensations 
and ideas (reproduced sensations) are the only objects whose existence 
can be perceived. This extremity of delusion is not to be met with in 



Chap. XXXIIL] SENSE-PERCEPTION, 259 

Locke himself, whose belief in respect to the objects of our cognition 
coincided with that of men in general; yet the incidental imperfec- 
tions of his philosophy wonderfully facilitated the progress of error. 
His constant mention of ideas, as if they alone were the immediate 
objects of knowledge, threw great obscurity over the doctrine of per- 
ception; his account of personal identity is unsatisfactory; above all, 
his definition of substance, in which the metaphysical and the logical 
substance are confounded, includes a falsity which many, if not most, 
subsequent philosophers have received without question. Even Reid 
and Hamilton accepted Locke's incognizable substratum ; we think 
that President McCosh is the first author by whom it has been ex- 
pressly rejected. 

Locke defines substance, "the supposed but unknown support of 
those qualities which we find existing." In truth, substance is not a 
thing supposed or unknown, though it is a thing abstractly conceived of, 
and difficult of definition. For certainly we know two kinds of sub- 
stances, — spirit and matter; and therefore the knowledge of sub- 
stances exists in one's mind whether he be able or whether he be 
unable to analyze and define it. Locke's definition gave an admi- 
rable opportunity for his keen-witted disciples to reject at once the 
definition and the thing. Why should any one without some good 
reason believe in a supposition ? And how can we know that any given 
thing is, without, in that very knowledge, knowing what it is? 

The chief difficulty connected with the definition of substance — 
that is, of metaphysical or "real" substance — lies in the extreme 
simplicity of its nature. Substance is a thing absolutely simple ; 
therefore, like space, time, power, or change, it is incapable of analyt- 
ical definition. Such things, however, can and should be defined by 
mentioning one or more of their relational properties. For the present 
it may suffice to describe substance as that kind of entity by which 
alone power, whether active or passive, can be possessed and exercised. 
And the ego, or soul, may be described as a substance endowed with 
those peculiar powers which we call psychical. 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 

SENSE-PERCEPTION. 

1. Every science sets out with the recognition of alleged fact. 
This is the case with the philosophy of sense-perception. Men 
generally hold that the}' perceive, and that, too, as things differ- 
ent from themselves, material objects, together with the opera- 
tions, qualities, and relations of these objects. Let us discuss 
the nature of this perception ; let us inquire how far it may be 
a reliable source of knowledge ; and let us seek for satisfactory 
conceptions of the objects which it reveals. 



260 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXIII. 

In every case in which the views of philosophers have differed 
from those of men in general, in regard to the reliability of cog- 
nition b}' the senses and the realit}' of the material universe, this 
difference may be traced to the various explanations of sensuous 
cognition which different thinkers have adopted. Such being 
the case, a review of theories concerning the process of external 
perception will be serviceable. This will bring to light the 
causes of mistaken judgment, both as to the topic immediately 
considered and as to others connected with it ; and will qualify 
us to condemn unfounded or unnatural hypotheses, and to accept 
those that are satisfactory. No department of philosoph}' shows 
a more gradual advancement than the doctrine of sense-percep- 
tion ; none exhibits more striking!}' how truth has often been at- 
tained at last only by the slow and difficult elimination of error. 
The early The earliest theorizers, as was natural, formed con- 

Greek phi- ceptions of the soul more or less materialistic ; they 
650-450 B.C. ; fashioucd their notions of perception according to the 
348 B*c*f~ analogy of some operation of matter. Diogenes of 
Aristotle, Apollouia defined spirit as a hioiily refined air or 

385-322 B.C. 1 .' -1 • 1 1 • i.1 • 

vapor, and perception as a vibration produced in this 
b}^ the impact of outer things on the organs of the bod}', which 
the air pervades. Heraclitus said that the soul was fire, or 
caloric, and that its cognitions were movements corresponding 
to the motions of a similar external element which is the living 
principle of the universe. Possibh^ neither of these sages would 
have claimed that his language was strictl}' literal, but only that 
it was the best he could find to express his thoughts. 

Empedocles held that ''like can be known onty b}' its like," 
and that images of things {simulacra rerwn) must reach the 
mind from the object through the avenues of sense. These like- 
nesses he called airoppoai, or effluxes. 

Democritus, who taught that the soul differs from the body 
by being composed of finer particles, and that it is, as it ^ere, a 
finer body enclosed in the visible one, agreed with Empedocles 
in the doctrine of the simulacra. These also are the appearances 
mentioned by Lucretius, — 

" Quae, quasi membranae summo de cortice reru 
Dereptae, vohtant ultro citroque per auras." 

The view of Democritus, that "all the senses are modes of 
touch," figurativel}' expresses a fundamental principle in philos- 
oph}', — namely, that the soul immediatel}' perceives external 
things onl}" so far as the}^ may come into immediate contact with 
the sensorium, the perception of the distant being inferential. 
The effluxes of Empedocles are evidentl}' devices to bring the 



Chap. XXXIII.] SENSE-PERCEPTION. 261 

soul into contact with something which, being immediately 
known, may reveal the prototype from which it comes. 

Plato, rejecting external effluxes and simulacra, inculcated that 
sense-perception, or alaO-qa-i^^ results from the interaction of the 
material object and the sentient soul. Hence he held that it 
varies with this joint activit}^ ; the perceptions of the same object 
b}' different beings are not necessarily alike, nor need the per- 
ceptions of the same object by the same being be always alike. 
Therefore sense-perception, as compared with rational knowl- 
edge (rj iTna-TrjfxT}), is inferior and untrustworthy. Moreover, in 
the Platonist doctrine, the object immediately perceived is an 
immaterial ciSooXov, or image, formed by the action of the soul 
under the excitement of impressions from without. This clSwXov, 
with reference to its part in perception, was called the gnostic 
reason (A.oyos yvwo-rtKos), — that is, the reason, or ground, of 
knowing. 

Aristotle, with a more penetrating genius than that of Plato, 
considered the individual, which is the object of the cognitions 
of sense, to be that which alone has actual existence, and in 
which alone the general conceptions of the intellect are reahzed. 
He did not condemn our first perceptions, as Plato did. At the 
same time he did not, like Locke, recognize their supreme au- 
thority as the sole origin of knowledge. Nor did he see that 
perception^ being an act icholJy intellectual^ and by no means a 
variable compound of thought and sensation., differs in different 
cases only because of its own invariable nature., — oi^ly because 
the object immediately perceived is no longer the same. Aris- 
totle makes too great a distinction between the \pv)(ri-, or sentient 
and percipient soul, and the voOs, or thinking mind, and there- 
fore, by implication, between the ala-O-qrov, or object of sense- 
perception, and the elSo?, or form, which is the object of true 
knowledge. The latter is contained in the former, and is invari- 
able ; but the former, so far as it does not contain the latter, 
is a joint product of the sensation of the soul and of the sense- 
affecting motions of the external object. In short, the Stagirite 
did not recognize that the intellectual character of sense-percep- 
tion is radically the same with that of the rational facult}', — naj', 
that its revelations are not less, but more, reliable than those of 
the elaborative intellect. The truth is that neither sense-affect- 
ing objects, nor the sensations which they produce, have anj^ 
part in the production of perception, but only in the excitation 
of it. Perception is wholly a cognition from within. 

Sense-perception {alo-Orjcns) is defined by Aristotle as "the 
power which receives the sensible forms of things without the 
matter, as the wax receives the likeness of the signet-ring with- 



262 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXIU. 

out its iron or gold " (jo SeKrCKov twv ala-OrjroiV ctSwv avev Tr]<s vA.77?) ; 
in which statement sensible forms seem to signify imjyressions 
corresponding to the whole indwidual nature of things., but 
which 3'et are of a radically different character from the things 
themselves. 

Thescho- ^' '^^^ schoolmen gave the name " species" to the 

lastics, A.D. images of Plato and the sensible forms of Aristotle ; 
wuHam^of ^^^ bccausc they considered these mental representa- 
Occam.died tions to rcsult ft'om the effort, or ''intention," of the 

13-17 ■ Des 

cartes, 1596- soul in the direction of the objects of sense, they called 
1632-1704^^' t^^^ species intentionales . With them these species 
were of three kinds, — sjjecies sensibiles, of which each 
sense furnished its own in respect to an}- observed object ; species 
sensatce, which were treasured up and emplo3'ed b}' memorj* and 
fantas}' ; and species intelligibiles, which are the general notions 
of the intellect applicable to things perceived. The species of the 
fantas}^ were derived from those of sense ; but different opinions 
prevailed as to the origin of intelligible species. Some derived 
them from the species of the fantas}^ ; others held them to be 
innate to the mind, which brought them into use as occasion 
required. Moreover, while most made sensible species the in- 
ternal products of a mental power, some gave them an existence 
external to the mind, and even a capability of flying, in a con- 
tinuous and rapid succession, through space. Most mediaeval 
thinkers, also, assumed some sort of resemblance between the 
species and the object perceived, — a doctrine which very natu- 
rallj' finds a place in ever}^ theorj^ of representative perception. 

But \Yilliam of Occam, the great nominalist, who rejected the 
universals of rational thought, rejected also species of every kind. 
He held that no such media are necessary for the perception of 
things. In this he was followed by two great men of a succeed- 
ing age, Gassendi and Descartes, both of whom denied the pos- 
sibility of any resemblance between thought and things known, 
but who nevertheless left the nature of sense-perception very 
ill-defined. 

Descartes did an essential service to philosophy in asserting 
the intellectual character of sense-perception more strongly than 
had ever been done before ; and his employment of the word 
*Mdea," to signify the immediate object of the mind in any 
mode of perceiving or thinking, has resulted in the modern use 
of the term to denote a thought of an}' kind whatever. Previ- 
ously to his day ideas meant what Plato understood b}^ them, — 
that is, eternal patterns of things in the Divine mind. 

After Descartes the doctrine of perception by means of species 
underwent various fortunes, being incased and protected by the 



Chap. XXXIII. 1 SENSE-PERCEPTION. 263 

scholastic terminolog}', 3'et weakened by ever}- new advance in 
psychological analj'sis. The learned Pere Malebranche, whose 
doctrine of "occasional causes" made perception immediately 
dependent on Divine interposition, was a noted defender of 
sensible species ; while Anton}' Arnauld, the distinguished Jan- 
senist, discarded species, and identified the idea of the object 
with our perception of it. Even Arnauld, however, held that 
the idea of the object was representative of it, and the immedi- 
ate object of perception ; and this seems to have been the view 
of Locke also. Locke expressly says that ' ' idea is the object 
of thinking;" teaching, however, at the same time that "the 
ideas of sensation are, in the mind, no more the likeness of 
something existing without us than the names that stand for 
them are the likeness of our ideas." Berkeley and Hume so 
developed this doctrine of Locke as to leave no objects of 
thought save ideas onl}^ 

Thomas Eeid, At last Thomas Reid, the stalwart apostle of com- 
1710-1797. mon sense, arose and thoroughly destroyed the theory 
of representative perception in all its forms. No one can study 
the writings of Reid without being mightily convinced that, in 
perception, we deal with tlie object itself, and not with any 
species, or idea, or representation of it, in the mind. We per- 
ceive the object itself, and not a vicarious substitute. 

The position of Reid may be illustrated by citing part of his 
"first reflection on the common theory ot ideas." This theory, 
he says, " is directly contraiy to the universal sense of men who 
have not been instructed in philosoph}'. When we see the sun 
and the moon, we have no doubt that the very objects which we 
immediately see are very far distant from us and from one an- 
other. We have not the least doubt that this is the sun and 
the moon which God created some thousands of years ago, and 
which have continued to perform their revolutions in the heav- 
ens ever since. But how are we astonished when the philoso- 
pher informs us that we are mistaken in all this ; that the sun 
and moon which we see are not, as we imagine, many miles 
distant from us and from each other, but that they are in our 
own mind ; that the}' had no existence before we saw them, and 
will have none when we cease to perceive and think of them ; 
because the objects we perceive are only ideas in our own minds, 
which can have no existence a moment longer than we think of 
them ! If a plain man, uninstructed in philosophy, has faith 
to receive these mysteries, how great must be his astonishment ! 
He is brougiit into a new world, where everything he sees, tastes, 
or touches is an idea, — a fleeting kind of being, which he can 
conjure into existence or can annihilate in the twinkling of an 



264 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXIII. 

ej-e. After his mind is somewhat composed, it will be natural 
for him to ask his philosophical instructor, ' Pra}', sir, are there, 
then, no substantial and permanent beings, called the sun and 
moon, which continue to exist, whether we think of them or 
not?' Here the philosophers differ. Mr. Locke and those that 
were before him will answer that it is very true there are sub- 
stantial and permanent beings called the sun and moon ; but 
they never appear to us in their own person, but by their repre- 
sentatives, the ideas in our own minds, and we know nothing 
of them but what we can gather from those ideas. 

Bishop Berkeley and Mr. Hume would give a different answer 
to the question proposed. The}^ would assure the querist that it 
is a vulgar error that there are any permanent and substantial 
beings called the sun and moon ; that the heavenly bodies, our 
own bodies, and all bodies whatever, are nothing but ideas in 
our minds ; and that there can be nothing like the ideas of one 
mind but the ideas of another mind. There is nothing in Nature 
but minds and ideas, says the Bishop; — nay, sa3's Mr. Hume, 
there is nothing in Nature but ideas only ; for what we call a 
mind is nothing but a train of ideas connected by certain re- 
lations between themselves." 

The treatise from which the foregoing is quoted is an irresisti- 
ble demonstration of the falsity of the representational view of 
external perception, and a strong vindication of the truthfulness 
of the dictates of common sense. In particular, ideas or species, 
as intermediate objects, are shown to be things merety hypo- 
thetical, assumed, without any evidence of their existence, in 
order to explain facts which they really tend to explain away. 
Reid's At the same time it is to be confessed that Reid 

cSicised Succeeded better in refuting erroneous views than in 
Clarke, developing and defending a theor}^ of his own. His 
Porterfieid. (jQctrlue is defective both in regard to our acquired 
"perceptions., to which class all our more noticeable sense-cogni- 
tions belong, and in regard to those original perceptions on 
which the acquired are founded. He made a mistake in denying 
the fact relied upon b}^ the advocates of representational percep- 
tion, that, in some sense at least, the immediate cognition of 
the distant is a thing impossible. 

Certainl}-, with our present constitution, an object must act 
on the mind to be perceived ; such being the case, it is rational 
to suppose that only those objects are immediatelj^ perceived 
which act immediately^ and that other objects which act through 
them are perceived inferentially, although it may be by a simple, 
eas}', and instantaneous inference. Even were we to suppose 
disembodied spirits to have a power of external cognition in no 



Chap. XXXIII.] SENSE-PERCEPTION. 265 

way conditioned on impressions from without, it is impossible 
to believe that they could exercise that power if entirel}" sepa- 
rated from the object and from all means of communication with 
it. We reject Reid's doctrine of the immediate perception of 
the distant as being contrary both to fact and reason. 

The teaching of this philosopher respecting original 
acqmie(\^"r- sensc-perceptiou is not so objectionable as that which 
ception as we havc just Considered, and which pertains to ac- 
hy Refd. An quired perception only. His account of original per- 
Ssthiction ception is defective rather in the mode of its conception 
and expression than in the principal matter presented. 
Believing every act of cognition to be of a purely internal origin, 
and not, like sensation, the effect of external causes, he was led 
to say that perception is a kind of suggestion, or inference, made 
by the mind on the occasion of its sensations, Nevertheless, 
he held this to be an act of immediate cognition, because it is 
entirely independent of any past knowledge or perception of 
things, and itself originates both our conception of objects and 
our belief in their existence. Therefore, also, it is radically 
different from that suggestional, or inferential, cognition which 
it is tlie province of the reasoning faculty to supply. 

Reid's doctrine of the immediateness of both original and 
acquired perception may be best gathered from a passage in his 
second e^s^y. " In perception," he sa3's, '' whether original or 
acquired, there is something which may be called the sign, and 
something which is signified to us, or brought to our knowledge, 
by that sign. In original perception the signs are the various 
sensations which are produced by the impressions made upon 
our organs. The things signified are the objects perceived in 
consequence of those sensations, by the original constitution of 
our nature. Thus, when 1 grasp an ivory ball in my hand, I 
have a certain sensation of touch. Although this sensation be 
in the mind, and have no similitude to anything material, 3'et, 
by the laws of my constitution, it is immediately followed by 
the conception and belief that there is in m}^ hand a hard 
smooth body of a spherical figure, and about an inch and a half 
in diameter. This belief is grounded neither upon reasoning 
Ttor upon experience ; it is the immediate effect of my consti- 
tittion ; and this I call original perception. 

' ' In acquired perception the sign ma}- be either a sensation 
or something originally perceived. The thing signified is some- 
thing which, by experience, has been found connected with that 
sign. Thus, when the ivory ball is placed before my eye, I per- 
ceive by sight what I before perceived by touch, that the ball 
is smooth, spherical, and of such a diameter and at such a dis- 



266 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXm. 

tance from the ej^e ; and to this is added the perception of its 
color. All these things I perceive by sight, distinctly and with 
certainty. Yet it is certain, from principles of philosophy, that 
if I had not been accustomed to compare the informations of 
sight with those of touch, I should not have perceived these 
things by sight. I should have perceived a circular object, 
having its color gradually more faint towards the shaded side ; 
but I should not have perceived it to have three dimensions, to 
be spherical, to be of such linear magnitude, and at such a dis- 
tance from the e3^e. That these last-mentioned are not original 
perceptions of sight, but acquired hj experience, is sufficiently 
evident from the principles of optics, and from the art of paint- 
ers, in painting objects of three dimensions upon a plane which 
has only two. And it has been put beyond all doubt hy obser- 
vations recorded of several persons who, having, by cataracts 
in their ej^es, been deprived of sight from their infanc}^ have 
been couched and made to see after they came to 3'ears of 
understanding. . . . This power, which we acquire, of perceiving 
things by our senses which originall}^ we should not have per- 
ceived, is not the effect of any reasoning on our part ; it is the 
result of our constitution and of the situations in which we 
happen to be placed." 

In the foregoing the word " sign," as applied to a sensation, 
is used in a peculiar sense. It indicates that the sensation, 
when expe?'ie7iced^ is the occasion of a knowledge which yet 
residts immediately from, the constitution of the soul, and 
which therefore is not at all an inference from past knowl- 
edge. It is also to be noticed that an original perception, or the 
sensation appropriate to it, becomes the sign for an acquired 
perception in precisely the same manner that a sensation is the 
sign for the original . perception itself. Although the power of 
acquired perception is obtained in the course of one's experi- 
ence, this perception is not of the nature of reasoning ; it is not 
an inference, properly so called, but the direct result of our 
constitution as modified during the past experience. In the 
passage immediateh^ subsequent to that just quoted, Reid goes 
on to argue this point at length. 

Theinferen- ^' '^^^ doctriuc of acquired perception, thus pre- 
tiai nature of sented, has not been accepted as a final statement, 
cepuon!^ P'"" Before the time of Reid, Bishop Berkeley, in his - New 
Pres. Porter Theorj" of Vision," had skilfully analj'zed our sight- 
quote . perceptions of the distance and size of objects, and 
had shown them to be judgments in which ascertained standards 
of measurement are easily and unconscious!}' emplo3'ed. Possibly 
the reasonings of Berkeley suggested to Reid the necessity of 



Chap. XXXIIl.] SENSE-PERCEPTION. 267 

distinguishing our Original from our acquired perceptions ; they 
certatnly indicated and determined the direction in which later 
philosophy has advanced. During the present century the action 
of the reasoning power has been shown to be much more per- 
vading than was formerly supposed ; and at the time of our 
writing there is a general agreement that acquired perception 
is an inference^ — nay., that it is an i?i/erence founded on 
induction. 

In illustration of this we cite the following characteristically 
judicious remarks of President Porter. " It may surprise many," 
he sa3S, " to learn that tlie processes employed in the acquired 
perceptions are processes of induction. Induction is usually 
conceived and described as a process wliich is appropriated to 
philosophical discover}', which requires wide generalization and 
profound reflection, and issues only in comprehensive principles 
and laws. A little reflection will satisfy any one, however, that 
the act of mind is the same with that performed in every one of 
the acquired perceptions. The difference between the two kinds 
of induction is not in the process, but in the materials upon 
and with which the mind performs them. But the acts, the fun- 
damental assumptions, and the liabiKt}^ to error in both, are 
esseritially the same." 

Were we to add anything to these words, it would be simply 
to emphasize the statement that the circumstances of the origin 
and development of our inferential perceptions cause them to 
differ greatly from the formal operations of the reasoning power. 
In particular, the processes involved in them are so simple, and 
become so habitual, and take place so easil}' and quickl_y, that 
they escape from all ordinary analysis. To understand them 
requires special methods of observation and comparison. This 
distinction between our articulate reasonings and the instan^ 
taneous conclusions of perception should be fully recognized. 
The doctrine Reid's doctrine of original perception may be ac- 
petxepuon ccptcd as Substantially expressing the truth. Re- 
perfected by jecting both representative ideas and reasoning of 
iiton. ' Ham- ^^3' kind, it is truly a theor}^ of immediate cognition. 
iitou quoted. Xhis immcdiateness is somewhat marred when percep- 
tion is made the interpretation of a sign, or the belief suggested 
b}' an experienced sensation. Even while the interpretation or 
suggestion introduces a cognition which is independent of past 
knowledge, this cognition is represented as subsequent in time 
to the sensation upon which it depends, and seems to be sepa- 
rated by the sensation from the object perceived. There is reason 
for saying that the object is perceived through^ or b}' means of, 
the perception of the sensation, and not simply along with., thifS 



268 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXIII. 

latter perception. Such a mode of statement is an invitation 
easil}' accepted by a thinker of Kantian proclivities to question 
the authoritj^ of the "suggestions" of the mind, in regard to 
objects external to the soul ; it also gives one who supposes the 
"interpretation" mentioned to be an ordinar\^ logical inference 
the opportunity of showing that there is no ground for any such 
inference, — naj^ that an original inferential perception is an 
absurdit3\ The latter objection is unjust, being grounded on 
misapprehension; the former ma}' be partiall}* met by saying that 
what is ultimate and irresistibly self-evident should be received 
as its own proof; yet both naturally present themselves. 

The discussion of difficulties like these led to the inquiry 
whether the doctrine of the Glasgow professor was not capable 
of improvement. In particular, it was asked, "• Have we not 
ground to belicA^e in a perception yet more immediate than that 
which Reid describes?" and " May not the phenomena of such 
perception be set forth in terms more exactly expressive of its 
nature than any which have 3'et been used ? " The answer to 
these questions w^as wrought out by Sir William Hamilton, and 
is the principal addition which his learned and laborious criti- 
cism has made to the philosoph}' of Scotland. His improvement 
of the doctrine of perception pertains to two points. 

In the first place, discarding the statement of Reid and his 
immediate successors, that "perception follows sensation," or 
that "sensation is the antecedent of perception," Hamilton 
forcibly maintained that both the seiisation and the sense- 
affecting object, together with the proper characteristics and 
relations of the latter, are perceived directly and at once, and 
in the same intellectual movement. And, secondly, he rejected 
all such terms as "interpretation" and " suggestion," and spoke 
of the "intuitions and presentations" of perception. "Ex- 
ternal perception, or perception, simply," says he, " is the 
facult}^ presentative, or intuitive, of the phenomena of the 
non-ego, or matter, — if there be an}' intuitive apprehension of 
the non-ego at all. Internal perception, or self-consciousness, is 
the faculty presentative, or intuitive, of the phenomena of the 
ego, or mind." 

By these simple changes, in which Reid himself would have 
heartily acquiesced, Hamilton freed the doctrine of perception 
from a liability to be misapprehended, and rendered it in every 
way conformable to the common judgment and experience of 
mankind. 

The foregoing sketch indicates how slowly and with what 
difficulty a satisfactory theory of perception has been reached 
by speculators. The earliest philosophers regarded the soul 



Chap. XXXIV.] PRESENTATIONAL COGNITION. 269 

as a material essence, and its perceptions and thinkings as 
molecular motions resulting from the impact or attraction of 
external things. The membranous simulacra of Empedocles, 
constantly flying off from objects and entering through the 
avenues of sense, betoken a more thoughtful theorizer. Next 
we notice the obscure and half-deA^eloped views of Plato and 
Aristotle ; the former of whom scarce!}' recognized any connec- 
tion between thought and sense, and the latter of whom made 
perception the result of the combined action of the semi-corporeal 
sensitive soul and the immaterial rational mind. The sensible 
species of the schoolmen, produced by the percipient spirit, 3'et 
distinct from it, and the direct objects of cognition, ma}^ be 
taken as showing progress in the recognition of the intellectual 
character of perception. This progress is more apparent in the 
"ideas" of Occam, Descartes, Leibnitz, Arnauld, and Locke, 
which were identical with perceptions, jet the immediate objects 
of perception. These introduced the logical but self-destructive 
philosophies of Berkeley and Hume. Reid followed, denying 
that we perceive by representations, and teaching, though im- 
perfectly, the doctrine of immediate perception. Finall}', Sir 
William Hamilton expressed the truth by saying that our first 
cognition of things within, or in contact with, the sensorium is 
absolutely free from any process of inference, and that there- 
fore it should be called presentative, or intuitive, perception. 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 
THE RELIABILITY OF PRESENTATIONAL COGNITION. 

The reiiabii- ^' '^^^ qucstion as to the reliability, or truthfulness, 
ity of sense- of the scnses pertains chiefly to our original, or im- 
Tife'qiiestion mediate, cognitions. Mistakes occur in acquired, or 
oSn"f *^r i^^^^^^^itial, perception ; but our original perceptions 
ception chief- are ncvcr incorrect. The so-called deceptions of sense 
Aac-ifstfue™' ^^® merel}' wrong conclusions from facts immediately 
and Aristotle perceived. This is the position of Reid in his chap- 
*^^°^^^- ter on " The Fallacy of the Senses." In speaking of 
" the errors to which we are liable in our acquired perceptions," 
he even denies that such perceptions are those of sense at all. 
" Acquired perception," he says, " is not properly the testimony 
of those senses which God hath given us, but a conclusion 



270 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXIV. 

drawn from what the senses testify'." Long previonsh' to Reid, 
philosophers had recognized the reliability* of immediate percep- 
tion, and had ascribed fallibility only to the accompanying judg- 
ment. Anselm of Canterbury wrote : " Falsitas, non in sensibus, 
sed in opinlone." St. Augustine, referring to the oar half 
dipped in water, says : '' Si quis remum frangi in aqua opinatur, 
et, quum inde aufertur, integrari, non malum habet internun- 
tium, sed malus est judex." And Aristotle taught that sense 
perceives its own things correctly, or with the least possible 
error, but may be mistaken in things accidental to it. We 
cannot be wrong in saying that we see something white, but 
we may be mistaken in saying that the white thing is this or 
that, — if, for example, we should say that it is, or that it is 
not, the man Cleon. 

In considering the reliabihty of sense, we should bear in mind 
the fact remarked by Reid, that hy far the greater part of our 
perceptions are acquired. This will enable us to see that in 
one part of every ordinar}^ perception there is no possibihty 
of error, and that there is another part in which one may find 
himself deceived. We may be mistaken in asserting some ob- 
ject to be 3'ellow ; for the apparent color maj^ not trulj^ reside 
in the surface of the object, but may result from the reflec- 
tion of a yellow flame, or from our looking through stained 
glass, or from a jaundiced condition of the eye. But we may 
be certain that the soul sees something different from itself, 
and which ma}^ be distinguished from other things as the cause 
of a peculiar sensation of color. In other words, there can 
be no doubt that we see something 3'ellow. After this manner 
all our ordinar}' perceptions may be anal3*zed. 

The question of the veracity of the senses is the 
ofVwider^n- principal branch of a more fundamental inquirj^ with 
?oncerns^hu- wWch it is practically identical ; we mean that in- 
nian knowi- quiry whicli concerns the reliability of presentational 
a'^'SeS' thought in general. 

pf j"<i«ijy Since presentation is the ultimate source of all 

AristoSe' knowledge, the bearing of our present investigation 
Somfthings ^^ vcry broad. We are really to discuss the question, 
must be seff- whether or not human knowledge in general has any 
good foundation. 

Let us start out with the principle that something must be 
self-evident, if any things at all are true and can be known 
to be. This truth, which may be deduced immediately from 
the nature of inference, is one of the oldest doctrines of phi- 
losoph}^ Aristotle taught that nothing can be more unreason- 
able than to ask a reason for everything, and that some things 



Chap. XXXIV.] PRESENTATIONAL COGNITION. 271 

must be evident of themselves. The most perfect inference is 
vahieless if it do not rest ultimately on truths which are not 
inferred. Nothing can be supported unless there be that which 
needs no support ; nothing dependent and derived without that 
which is independent and underived. 

It is the office of philosophy — perhaps its most important 
office ^- to consider the nature and relations of self-evident 
truths so as to determine what may be the marks of their self- 
evidence. In other words, while making no attempt to prove 
the self-evident, we should be able, when called upon, to prove 
that it is self-evident and does not stand in need of extraneous 
support. 

There is only one way in which this can be done ; loe must 
consider attentively undoubted individual cases of intuitive 
conviction., so as to see in what respects they differ from other 
beliefs which are not intuitive. Some, while admitting the 
possibility of this process, may say that it is useless, — that one 
might as well be asked to prove the visibility of the sun as 
the self-evidence of a thing self-evident, — that, in short, there 
can be no question as to the truth, of things presentationall}' 
known. This is true in regard to one aspect or relation of 
our immediate perceptions ; but it is not true in regard to their 
philosophical relations. 

In practical matters, and in the primarj^ and proper exercise 
of intuition, one never doubts the self-evident, or hesitates to 
act on his perception of it. But in speculation, when w^e deal 
not directly with sensible realities, but with mental reproduc- 
tions and elaborations, it has been found possible both to deny 
that some things which are self-evident are so, and to assert 
that other things are self-evident which are not. The intuitional 
character ascribed to abstractions and generalizations is second- 
ary and derivative, and is that onl}' of the individual perceptions 
which they represent. And as in commerce gold is never re- 
jected, while this may happen to notes " as good as gold," so 
general and abstract "intuitions," together with conclusions 
derived from them, are questioned, while actual individual per- 
ceptions never are. The most astounding errors^ have arisen 
from this theoretical rejection of our immediate cognitions. 
The negative ^* To Counteract such speculative evils, certain tests 
tests of or marks — certain rules of judgment, both positive 
and negative — ma}^ be emploj^ed, by means of which 
we may estimate the value of alleged intuitions. If such criteria 
can be found, not only the ipse dixit of philosophers, but also 
our own uninformed opinions, may properlj^ be subjected to 
their authoritv. 



272 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXIV. 

The negative rules of judgment are based on those negative 
characteristics which belong to every true presentation. 

For example, no belief is intuitive lohich requires logical 
proof before we can accept it. That the Kohinoor diamond 
exists, and that it is a cr3'stal of carbon, ma}' be assured con- 
victions with persons who never saw the gem ; but the}' are not 
intuitions. 

It is clear, also, that no remembrance is an intuition ; even the 
most perfect memorj' is onl}' the reproduction of past thought, 
accompanied with the mental assertion that this thought was 
at the first presentationally obtained. 

Again, no general truth is intuitional. Every general concep- 
tion or proposition is formed by a process of abstraction ; its 
truthfulness depends on the correctness of that process. Many 
general convictions are st^'led intuitions/, nor do we find fault 
with this ; but such language signifies onl}' that they are imme- 
diately formed from intuitions. The general truths, that matter 
and its qualities exist, and that spirit and its powers exist, are 
intuitions, or presentations, only in a secondar}' sense. 

In the next place, no merely probable judgment is intuitive. 
Ever}" judgment of probability is of the nature of an inference ; 
it is the selection by the mind, from several possible consequents, 
of that consequent which is supported by the greatest number of 
chances. Probable judgment may also be distinguished from 
the intuition of which we now speak, because the latter is always 
the perception of an object, while in the former we deal not 
with things, but only with conceptions which may or may not be 
found to agree with reality. 

So, also, no doubtful belief is intuitive. We distinguish a 
judgment of doubt from a judgment of probability, because in 
the former our minds are not determined to any degree of con- 
fidence, but remain unfixed and wavering. 

Finally, no hypothetical conmction is intuitive in the sense 
now considered. For such a conviction is not only inferential, 
but it is also based on supposition. We are now discussing 
presentational intuitions alone. 

The use of the "'^^^ ^^ "^^^^ \>\xrw to some rulcs which refer to posi- 
positive rules tive characteristics, and which are much more deter- 
that"onii^e^ minative than the negative tests. The consideration 
negative. of thcsc positive rules shows at once that absolute 
confidence with which we may rest on presentational cognition, 
and the method by which we may satisfy ourselves whether 
any particular belief be intuitional or not. The use of these 
rules is based on the supposition that a certain number of our 
beliefs will stand the tests already considered. Let a conviction 



Chap. XXXIV.] PRESENTATIONAL COGNITION. 273 

be neither a mere deductive conclusion, nor the memory of a 
past perception, nor an abstract and general proposition, nor 
a probable judgment, nor a doubtful belief, nor an hypothetical 
assertion, but so far as we can see, the presentational perception 
of either contingent or necessary fact. We have now what 
might be called a prima facie case of intuition, and are in a 
position to apply further and more conclusive rules of philosophi- 
cal criticism. 

3. These have been variously enumerated b}^ emi- 
Jve mSs' nent writers, but they may all, we think, be reduced 
of intuitioiK to three. In the first place, our intuitions, or pre- 
conviction; sentative perceptions, are marked \)y that absolute and 
icSptlnc?! irresistible conviction which they produce ; in the 
3 Logical ' second place, the intuitions of each individual mind 
consistency. ^^.^ marked by an agreement with those of all other 
minds, of which fact the common possession b}- our race of a 
large body of assured beliefs is a sufficient proof; and in the 
third place, the intuitions of the mind are marked by a perfect 
logical consistency and coherency with each other. 

These tests, when faithfully employed, leave no ground for 
speculative scepticism, and render our analytic acceptance of 
intuitional truth as unconditional as our practical acceptance 
of it always is. 

The first rule is the most fundamental ; the other two furnish 
secondary proofs, whereby the perfect self-evidence of intuition 
may be more clearly seen and more fully acknowledged. For 
if our immediate perceptions were not absolute and irresistible 
convictions, it would matter little whether they were experienced 
by all men alike, or whether they were logically consistent with 
one another. 

The irresistible conviction, mentioned as the fundamental 
mark of an intuition, is not the simple certaint}' which ordinarily 
attends immediate perception. It is the conviction which ac- 
cotniJanies experiments made for the purposes of philosophy^ 
and which^ in this way^ falls under the scrutinizing observa- 
tion of the investigator. We appeal to that special and specu- 
lative exercise of self-consciousness which has sometimes been 
distinguished as reflection. This appeal is legitimate, and when 
properly made has always the same result. 

Most philosophical schools, indeed, claim that consciousness 
in some way favors their theories, just as most theologians are 
able to find all their doctrines in the Bible. 

" Hie hber est in quo qu^erit sua dogmata quisque, 
Invenit et pariter dogmata quisque sua." 
18 



274 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXIV. 

But the difficulty with man}" is that they cite consciousness 
rather in support of their own opinions than as a simple relater 
of truth. Many also expect an instantaneous decision of gen- 
eral questions, when the}' should look simpl^^ for the immediate 
presentation of the facts of spiritual life. Consciousness testifies 
onl}^ that our immediate and individual perceptions have an 
absolute and irresistible certaint}'. If the testimonj^ of this 
witness be accepted and be rightly taken, man}^ things will be 
put be3'ond dispute. If one doubt whether there be such a thing 
as thirst, let him eat salt victuals for a week without drinking 
water or any other fluid ; his doubt will be removed. In like 
manner let one gaze upon some prospect, or listen to some 
strain of music, endeavoring at the same time to believe that 
there is nothing external to himself, — that he is deluded in 
supposmg that he hears or sees an^-thing. He will find the 
task an impossibility ; that the presented facts admit of no 
denial. 

The most extreme sceptics allow tliat this testimon}" of con- 
sciousness would be perfectl}^ conclusive with them save only for 
certain speculative objections ; and they confess that even as it 
is, their philosoph}' is powerless to affect their own immediate 
convictions. " Nature," sa3's that prince of doubters, David 
Hume, " is always too strong for principle ; and though a Pjt- 
rhonian may throw himself or others into a momentary amaze- 
ment and confusion by his profound reasonings, the first and 
most trivial event in life will put to flight all his doubts and 
scruples, and leave him the same, in every point of action 
and speculation, with the philosophers of every other sect, or 
with those who never concerned themselves in any philosophical 
researches." 

The argu- ^' "^^^ csscntial Strength of the argument in favor 
mentfrom of the reliabilit}' of our immediate cognitions lies in 
8ense'™d?s- the irresistible self-evidence of the cognitions them- 
AiStotie selves, as attested by the reflective consciousness. 
Cicero, Reid, But as a Strong tower, resting on a solid rock, ma}' 
Hume. |jg rendered more immovable by buttresses, so our 

faith in the intuitions of which we are conscious may be cor- 
roborated by a comparison of our convictions with those of our 
fellow-men, and by an attentive consideration of the consistency 
and coherency of the intuitions with one another. 

It is true that the strength of an immediate perception is in no 
way affected by any sense that we may have that the convictions 
of others agree or disagree with our own. When a man has the 
toothache, he is absolutely sure that he has it, and that he can 
have it, and cannot help having it ; and he will hold these con- 



Chap. XXXIV.] PRESENTATIONAL COGNITION. 275 

victions in spite of any assertions on the part of others who have 
never had such a feeUng, that the\^ do not believe it to be a pos- 
sible experience. In like manner a laboring man who handles 
a pick or a spade is absolutely certain that these tools have 
weight and solidity, shape and size ; and he could not be shaken 
in this belief though the whole world should combine against 
him. But we must remember that the present discussion con- 
cerns the foundations of philosophical faith, and that this faith 
does not rest immediately in our presentative cognitions, but 
in general and abstract conceptions of them. This mode of 
conviction may be weakened, and it may be strengthened, by 
argument. 

The absolute unanimity of our race in regard to matters pre- 
sentationally known, and to such other matters as are full}' sub- 
ject to the knowledge and understanding of all, has been styled 
the commiciiis sensus, or "common sense," of mankind; and 
this is an arbiter of opinion whose authorit}' on fundamental 
questions is so great that many have taken it as the chief start- 
ing-point of all their reasonings, while even the most erratic 
pay it some respect. The universal belief of men was a corner- 
stone in the pliilosophy of Aristotle. He declares : " What all 
believe, that we affirm ; and whoever rejects this, will find nothing 
more worthy of confidence." Cicero considered the natural judg- 
ment of all men unquestionably correct. " De quo omnium 
natura consentit, id verum esse, necesse est," are his words. 
Eeid's constant appeal is to " the universal consent of mankind, 
not of philosophers onl}^ but of the rude and unlearned vulgar." 
Kant's " practical reason" is but a sublimated misconception of 
common sense. Even Hume, who, bej'ond any other, rejected 
the control of this monitor, formulates for us an excellent rule, 
the violation of which is magnificently illustrated in his own 
writings. " A philosopher," he says, " who proposes only to 
represent the common sense of mankind in more beautiful and 
more engaging colors, if, b}' accident, he commits a mistake, 
goes no farther, but, renewing his appeal to common sense, and 
the natural sentiments of the mind, returns into the right path, 
and secures himself from any dangerous delusion." 

This agreement of mankind in regard to a large body of 
convictions has its principal philoso2:)hical value in that 
it proves the convictions to have been correctly constructed. 
Without adding to the native force of intuition it gives assur- 
ance that this force has been rightly used and formulated ; 
which assurance is produced alike whether the beliefs which 
are found to agree be those of particular perceptions or those 
of general convictions. 



276 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXIV. 

Wherever one goes, all OA-er the world, he finds that other 
men perceive the same things — for example, the same objects in 
some rural scene — in the same way that he does himself; and 
also that the general views of men, formed from their particular 
perceptions, are similar to his own. In this wa}' man}' funda- 
mental convictions concerning the existence and the nature of 
entities, and the laws of their being, have become the common 
property of mankind. The parts of the physical universe, the 
operation of natural causes, the relations of time and space and 
quantit}', the daily life and experience of men, and the inward 
workings of the human mind and heart, are all the objects of 
the concordant particular perceptions, and of the uniform general 
convictions, of the whole famil}^ of Adam. 
• Evidently this unanimity involves a sameness in the original 
data of our belief, as well as in our deductions from them. In 
short, our natural judgments being made honestly, and without 
any other aim than the ascertainment of the truth, our agree- 
ment in them may be compared to that of a number of mathe- 
maticians, whose independent solutions of the same problem 
prove their work to be correct. Only it is to be noticed that 
in complicated questions we often accept opinions on the au- 
thority of others, while our appeal to that common sense of 
which philosoph}^ speaks, simply confirms convictions which we 
have already found ourselves competent to form. 
The second Another reason on account of which our faith in 
part of the intuition is corroborated b}' the consent of mankind 
from'com- — or rather another form of the same reason — is 
mon sense, founded ou the fact that no confliet ever occurs be- 
tween the intuitions of one man and those of another. If it 
could be shown that diS'erent and discordant natural beliefs were 
experienced by different men or classes of men, and that no rea- 
son could be given why one set of such convictions should be 
received and another rejected, this would indicate a radical in- 
ability on the part of the human family to perceive the truth. 

The authority of common sense cannot be impeached on the 
ground of any such discord. It is true that the judgments of 
insane persons, even as to things extremely evident, diflfer from 
those of other men. This difference, however, can be plainly 
traced to the substitution of unreal fancies for actual cognitions, 
and is alvva3'S connected with manifest absurdities ; for which 
reasons no weight of authority attaches to it. On the con- 
trary, if a Bedlamite could consider his own case rationall}^, 
the difference between himself and the rest of the world as to 
his being made of glass or iron, or being a millionnaire or an 
emperor, would furnish him sufficient ground for investigating 



Chap. XXXIV.] PRESENTATIONAL COGNITION. 277 

the formation of his views, in order to see whether tliey were 
anything more than wild imaginings. But hmatics, hke many 
great philosophers, are distinguished b}* a mental independence 
which elevates them above the authority of common sense. 
Recapituia- Such is the argument from the universal agreement 
tion. Qf nien. The scope of it is not to show that things 

self evident are to be believed because all men believe them, but 
to show that certain truths must be self-evident or necessarily 
connected with the self-evident, because all men believe them. 
And this argument assumes two forms. First, the consent of 
men enables us to determine more accurately what intuition 
teaches, which teaching is then to be believed simply for its 
own truth ; just as many witnesses might testify that some hon- 
est man made a given statement, which statement we would 
then believe, not because of the testimony of the witnesses, but 
because of the honesty of the man. And, secondlj^, the absence 
of conflict between the immediate cognitions of different rational 
beings shows that no flaw can be found either in their account 
of their intuitions or in the intuitions themselves. No disagree- 
ments can be detected in the statements of the honest man, as 
learnt from man}" witnesses ; we therefore accept with confidence 
that understanding of his words which is common to all. The 
argument from common sense presupposes that all men haA'e a 
facult}^ of perceiving truth, and then shows that the experience 
of the race agrees fully with that supposition. 
The consist- ^' ^^^ Concluding argument in favor of the reli- 
encyand ability of our immediate cognitions is derived from 
of ou??ntui- the consideration that the acceptance of these never 
tions. involves any absurdity, while the rejection of them 

alwaj'S does. This reasoning is allied to the secondary form of 
that just considered, and has even been identified with the argu- 
ment from common sense. Hamilton, in his " Discussions,'* 
says : " The argument from common sense postulates, and founds 
on the assumption that our original beliefs be not proved self- 
contradictory ^ In this statement, however, we suppose that 
Hamilton laj's no emphasis on the word " common." What we 
are taught is that the self-evidence of our immediate cognitions, 
no matter whether they ma}^ be considered as convictions of the 
individual or as convictions of the race, becomes especially clear 
when we observe their perfect logical consistency. 

But, to complete the strength of this argument, we may add 
that the truth of intuitions is illustrated also by their logical 
coherency. In other words, our speculative faith in our cogni- 
tions is corroborated not only by the consideration that they 
do not conflict with each other, but also by the consideration 



278 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXIV. 

that they support one another. For presentational convictions, 
whether in their individual or in their generalized forms, often 
condition one another logically, and ma}' be said to stand to one 
another in the relation of reason and consequent. In perceiving 
the substance of one's own bod}" or soul, we perceive that it must 
occup3" space, and in perceiving our own activities, we perceive 
that they must come from some powers or potencies ; therefore 
the existence of the space ma}^ be inferred from that of the sub- 
stance, and the existence of the power from that of the activity. 
A little consideration will make it evident that all things of 
which we can have presentational knowledge, whether imme- 
diatel}' connected with each other or not, are so bound together 
by a network of conditions that the}" may be also inferentially 
known. 

Such being the case, since every confirmatory inference thus 
goes back to an immediate cognition, it seems clear that every 
immediate cognition may be proved from an immediate cogni- 
tion. The perception of a polecat by smeU may be confirmed by 
the simultaneous sight of the animal; or, to use a more pleasant 
illustration, the hearing of a voice or footstep may be confirmed 
by the entrance of a friend, or the remembered cognition of 
«ome scene may be corroborated by a second survey of it. 

Thus the absurdity of rejecting any form of presentational 
truth results in part from its inseparable connection with other 
similarly self-evident truths. The denial of space is absurd be- 
cause involving the denial of body and of motion, and indeed 
of all objects and events ; for nothing can exist or take place 
save as in space. And the extreme absurdity- of disbelieving 
one's senses arises from the fact that we cannot do so without 
rejecting man}- connected intuitions. " I resolve not to believe 
my senses," saj's Reid. " I break my nose against a post that 
comes in my way ; I step into a dirty kennel ; and after twenty 
such wise and rational actions, I am taken up and clapped into 
a mad-house." The foil}' of such conduct and of such theory 
as is here described is complex, and made up of correlated 
parts ; it is thorough-going. 

This logical connection oT our presentational per- 
ccIlmeSn ceptions is worthy of study, because it is the first 
wortir- of"^ logical connection of things of which the mind is cog- 
more atten- ulzant, and that in which the radical principles of all 
basVeceived. I'^asoning are first found. Hitherto it has been over- 
looked ; chiefl}', we think, because, as a philosophical 
doctrine, it is less important than either the logical independence 
or the logical consistency of our immediate cognitions. 



Chap. XXXV.] THE NATURE OF SUBSTANCE. 279 

CHAPTER XXXV. 
THE NATURE GF SUBSTANCE. 

1. The gi'eat majority of man's perceptions are acquired, or mediate, 
and are inferences based on his original, or immediate, cognitions. 
Therefore an understanding of original perception precedes that of 
acquired perception. The latter mode of cognition is dependent on 
the former, not only for its conceptions and for the data of its infer- 
ences, but also, in a sense, for the principles on which its inferences 
proceed. Such being the case, the doctrine of original perception is 
very completely the basis of the philosophy of perception in general. 

. ^^ ^^ We have discussed the nature of immediate perception, 

perception, ^nd have seen the reliability of it as a source of knowledge, 
direct and Let US now consider the objects of our immediate cognition, 
indirect. ^^^ endeavor to conceive clearly and define the generic 
nature of the objects which become known to us in the exercise of this 
power. These may be- regarded as either direct or indirect, — the 
former being the proper objects of sense-perception and consciousness, 
the latter being more properly the objects of concomitant perception. 

The direct objects of consciousness are our spirits, together with 
their powers and operations; those of sense-perception are the matter 
of our bodies, and its powers and operations. Let us consider, first, 
these direct objects of our perception, and then those the cognition of 
which, though no less immediate, is less direct. 

History of Foremost among the objects of direct perception, we 
the doctrine find Substance, — that is, what we have already mentioned, 
of substance. Q^cier its generic forms, as matter and spirit. The leading 
philosophers of the last century taught that we are not immediately 
cognizant of substance, but only of its powers or qualities, and of its 
operations and changes. There is no good ground for this doctrine; 
but the adoption of it by philosophers may be accounted for by vari- 
ous reasons. The fact that substances are seen only as in opera- 
tion, and that the interest of the mind is specially determined to 
the operations and the qualities manifested in them, has much to do 
with it; this is the truth which has given vitality to the error. A 
cause more closely connected with philosophical thought may be 
found in the confusion and obscurity with which the idea of substance 
has been affected from the earliest times, and from which it is not 
entirely free at the present day. 

In the metaphysical and logical treatises of ancient writers, and 
particularly of Aristotle, substance is frequently mentioned, and many 
statements are made concerning it; but no one has yet combined these 
statements into a consistent and intelligible account, nor does this 
seem a thing possible. For sometimes what is said applies to a meta- 
physical substance only, — that is, to that substance in which powers 
may be inherent, — but more frequently it refers to the logical sub- 



280 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXV. 

stance, — that is, to any entity whatever, considered independently and 
as an actual or possible subject of predication. The confusion of these 
two notions threw obscurity on both. 

For the logical substance, with which ancient philosophy mainly con- 
cerned itself, has this peculiarity, that it may be identified with the 
sum of its attributes, being precisely the same complement of entity 
with the attributes, though viewed in a peculiar light; while the meta- 
physical substance, of which spirit and matter are the subordinate 
genera, is really, objectually, different from its attributes, and is not 
the same thing thought of in a different way. 

Such being the case, two opposite mistakes resulted. First, the 
logical substance was supposed to have an existence distinct from that 
of its attributes; and, secondly, the metaphysical substance was de- 
nied to have any existence other than that of its attributes. These 
mistakes, together with the difficulty inherently belonging to an ab- 
struse subject, led some philosophers to speak of substance as the 
mysterious and incognizable substratum of attributes, and others to 
question the existence of any such thing as substance. This latter 
view is too directly contradicted by common sense to merit much 
attention ; but the former is supported by great authority. 
Locke Keid Before Locke's time two definitions of substance pre- 
and McCosk vailed among the schools. That which sets forth substance 
quoted. j^g tt gj^g substans accidentibus," was generally preferred to 

that according to which substance is " ens per se subsistens." Each of 
these was applied to both the metaphysical and the logical substance; 
but, of the two, the former is more applicable to the logical, and the 
latter to the metaphysical. With regard to both kinds of substance, 
the expression " ens per se subsistens," from which Spinoza reasoned 
to one only substance, erroneously interprets that independence of 
conception which belongs to the idea of substance, as if it were an 
independence of existence belonging to substance itself. 

Rejecting this definition, Locke took the other, conjoining with it 
what had long been taught by philosophers, that substance is a thing 
mysterious and incognizable. His views are fully expressed in the second 
book of his " Essay," and may be illustrated by the following quota- 
tion: " When we talk or think of any particular sort of corporeal sub- 
stances, as horse, stone, and so forth, though the idea we have of 
either of them be but the complication or collection of those several 
simple ideas of sensible qualities, which we use to find united in the 
thing called horse or stone ; yet because we cannot conceive how they 
should subsist alone, nor one in another, we suppose them existing in, 
and supported by, some common subject; which support we denote by 
the name of substance, though it be certain that we have no clear or 
distinct idea of that thing we suppose a support. The same happens 
concerning the operations of the mind, — viz. , thinking, reasoning, 
fearing, etc., — which we, concluding not to subsist of themselves, nor 
apprehending how they can belong to body, or be produced by it, are 
apt to think the actions of some other substance which we call spirit." 

Remarking on these teachings, Locke says: " He that would show 
me a more clear and distinct idea of substance would do me a kind- 
ness I should thank him for. ' ' 



Chap. XXXV.] THE NATURE OF SUBSTANCE. 281 

In the foregoing, one sees how Locke does not distinguish the meta- 
physical from the logical substance ; which he should have done. 

The perplexity of subsequent thinkers may be illustrated from Reid's 
writings. "I perceive in a billiard ball," he says, "figure, color, 
and motion; but the ball is not figure, nor is it color, nor motion, nor 
all these taken together; it is something that has figure and color and 
motion. This is a dictate of Nature and the belief of all mankind. 
As to the nature of this something, I am afraid we can give little ac- 
count of it, save that it has the qualities which our senses discover. 
It seems to be a judgment of Nature that the things immediately per- 
ceived are qualities which must belong to a subject; and all the infor- 
mation that our senses give us about this subject is that it is that to 
which such qualities belong. From this it is evident that our notion 
of body or matter, as distinguished from its qualities, is a relative 
notion ; and I am afraid it must always be obscure until men have 
other faculties." 

In opposition to such teachings as these, and their evil consequences, 
Dr. McCosh remarks: "It is high time that those metaphysicians who 
defend radical ti'uth should abandon tliis unknown and unknowable 
substratum, or noumenon, which has ever been a foundation of ice to 
those who would build upon it. . . . We never know quality with- 
out knowing substance, just as we cannot know substance without 
knowing quality. . . . True, the substance is never known alone, or 
apart from the quality; but as little is tlie quality known alone, or apart 
f]"om a substance. Each should have its proper place, neither less nor 
more, in every system of the human mind." 

In his " Intuitions," also, McCosh describes substance as a form of 
being endowed with power and permanence. This is not an analytic 
dejinition, hut simph/ the determination, or indication, of a conception, hy 
the use of distinguishing properties. It is important to remark that the 
notion of substance is no more capable of analysis than are those of 
space, time, power, and change; it is something simple, and to be 
defined only by the relations which belong to the nature of substance. 

The attempt to define substance analytically has been one cause of 
the confusion of philosophers respecting it. To say that substance is 
actual entity as permanently related, or as having permanent attri- 
butes, which is the teaching of President Porter, is not satisfactory; 
for substance — that is, metaphysical substance — is a peculiar and 
indefinable kind of being, and is distinguished by its own essential 
attribute of substantiality , as well as by other properties which connect 
themselves with this. Moreover, logical as well as metaphysical 
substances may be either actual or possible, and may have permanent 
relations and attributes. The definition misses the mark; and this 
because the mark — that is, the kind of definition to be given — was 
misconceived. 

Accepting metaphysical substance as having an undefinable pecu- 
liarity, — as being, in fact, one of the summa genera oi entity, — the 
distinction between this and the logical substance becomes plain. We 
see, too, how these conceptions are so related to each other that the 
same object may in one aspect be a metaphysical, and in another a 
logical, substance. The former, when distinguished from Its powers 



282 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXV. 

and other attributes, is conceived of as having its own essential attri- 
bute of substantiality; the logical substance, whether it be a meta- 
physical substance or not, is simply a complement of entity viewed 
indeterminately, — that is, as materia secunda or as materia prima; 
and therefore, when distinguished from its attributes, is conceived 
simply as an entity, or an existence. 

The spatial- ^' -^^^^^^her source of error concerning substance has been 
ity of sub- the denial of one of the necessary properties of this kind of 
stance. Des- entity, — namely, its extension, or spatiality. This denial 
cartes, ocke. j^^^^ taken place in connection with the distinction between 
spirit and matter as the two kinds of substance. Till quite lately, 
modern philosophy, following Descartes, has taught that matter is the 
unthinking, extended substance, and spirit the thinking, unextended sub- 
stance ; and that therefore there may be substance without extension. 
This doctrine is simply a philosophical assumption. While indicating a 
laudable desire to contrast matter and spirit, it is supported only by the 
fact that the extension of matter is more noticeable than that of spirit. 

Hamilton, who liolds this view, admits its modern origin. In his 
♦'Discussion" of the philosophy of the "Conditioned," he writes: 
" The difficulty of thinking, or rather of admitting as possible, the 
immateriality of the soul, is shown by the tardy and timorous manner 
in which the inextension of the thinking subject was recognized in 
the Christian Church. Some of the early Councils, and most of the 
Fathers, maintained the extended, while denying the corporeal, nature 
of the spiritual principle ; and though I cannot allow that Descartes 
was the first by whom the immateriality of mind was fully acknowl- 
edged, there can be no doubt that an assertion of the inextension and 
illocality of the soul was long and very generall}'^ eschewed, as tanta- 
mount to the assertion that it was a mere nothing." 

With us the difficulty, which Hamilton recognizes, of admitting the 
inextension of the soul is insurmountable. We cannot conceive any- 
thing to exist save as in space, nor of any substance as existing except 
as occupying or pervading space. 

Locke, writing twenty years after the death of Descartes, and know- 
ing the views of the latter, by no means admits the inextension of 
spirit. In a discussion concerning identity he says: "We have the 
ideas of but three sorts of substances, — God, finite intelligences, 
bodies. First, God is without beginning, eternal, unalterable, and 
everywhere ; and, therefore, concerning his identity there can be no 
doubt. Secondly, finite spirits having had each its determinate time 
and place of beginning to exist, the relation to that time and place will 
always determine to each of them its identity as long as it exists. 
Thirdly, the same will hold of every particle of matter to which, no 
addition or substraction of matter being made, it is the same. For 
though these three sorts of substances, as we term them, do not ex- 
clude one another out of the same place, yet we cannot conceive but 
that they must necessarily each of them exclude any of the same kind 
out of the same place; or else the notions and names of identity and 
diversity would be in vain, and there could be no such distinction 
of substances, or anything else, one from another." 

This passage is conformable to the rational conjecture that spirit 



Chap. XXXV.] TEE NATURE OF SUBSTANCE. 283 

and matter do not occupy space in the same way, and that psychical 
substances have a subtilty, a fineness, and a continuity of being which 
enable them to penetrate the coarser substance, body, with as much 
freedom as if the space were vacant. 

AVe would not, however, say that spirit can occupy the very same 
space which is occupied by the ultimate atoms of matter ; and perhaps 
the words of Locke do not suggest so much as this. 

Other passages in the writings of this philosopher show that he 
deprecated any undue distinction between material and spiritual sub- 
stance. In a discussion subjoined to the third chapter of the fourth 
book of his " Essay," he says: " So far as I have seen or heard, the 
Fathers of the Christian Church never pretended to demonstrate that 
matter was incapable to receive a power of sensation, perception, and 
thinking from the hand of the omnipotent Creator. I know nobody 
before Descartes that ever pretended to show that there was any con- 
tradiction in it. So that, at the worst, my not being able to see in 
matter any such incapacity as makes it impossible for omnipotency 
to bestow on it a faculty of thinking, makes me opposite only to the 
Cartesians." 

To some these statements may savor of materialism; but it is to be 
observed that they are purely hypothetical, and that the matter mentioned 
in them simply signifies something possessing " extension and solidity ^^^ 
while this solidity is such only as must belong to any external object be- 
fore it can affect the senses in accordance with the ordinary laws of sen- 
sation. Locke was no materialist. 

Porter Mc- Few, if any, of the leading philosophers of the present 
Cosh, Ham- day positively assert that spirits possess extension ; this 
ilton, quoted, doctrine, however, is implied in the teachings of some. 
When President Porter defines sensation " a subjective experience of 
the soul as animating an extended sensorium," and when he says that 
"in each sensation the soul knows itself to be affected in some separate 
part of the extended organism which it pervades," it is natural to 
infer that the soul, which animates an extended organism and per- 
ceives itself to be affected in every part of the organism, is itself an 
extended being. 

Some words of President McCosh are similarly suggestive. He says 
that " we intuitively know the organism as out of the mind, as ex- 
tended, and as localized," and that "at every waking moment we 
have sensations from more than one sense, and we must know the 
organs affected as out of each other and in different places." If the 
intuition of bodily parts, as different and separate, require the imme- 
diate presence of the thinking agent, this presence must involve a soul 
which can pervade the body. 

At the same time we should note that Dr. McCosh does not con- 
sider this conclusion a necessary one; for in another place he writes: 
" I am inclined to think that our intuition declares of spirit that it 
must be in space. It is clear, too, that so far as mind acts on body, it 
must act on body as in space, — say in making body move in space. 
But beyond this I am persuaded that we have no means of knowing 
the relations which mind and space bear to each other. As to whether 
spirit does or does not occupy space, this is a subject ou which 



284 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXV. 

intuition seems to say nothing, and I suspect that experience says 
as little." 

With the foregoing statements we may compare those of Hamilton, 
who writes as follows : "In the consciousness of sensations relatively 
localized and reciprocally external, we have a veritable apprehension, 
and consequently an immediate perception, of the affected organism, 
as extended, divided, figured, and so forth. . . . An extension is 
apprehended in the apprehension of the reciprocal externality of all 
sensations." Sensations external to one another seem to indicate an 
extended soul. 

To us it is clear that the extension of the soul and the extension of 
the body are perceived at the same time and as correlated with one 
another. But we allow that the space-relations of the soul are appre- 
hended very indefinitely, and are probably not so fixed as those of the 
body, and they do not excite the interest or engage the attention of 
the mind. 

Moreover, the unity of the conscious spirit is inconsistent with the 
use of organs possessing distinct functions ; and no matter where 
within the sphere of the soul's presence any sensation or other ac- 
tivity may originate, it seems instantly participated in by our whole 
being. Hence the paradox of Aristotle, that the soul is all in every 
part of the body. 

We content ourselves, therefore, with the statement that spirit and 
matter are both discerned as substance, and that this form of entity is 
perceived, and conceived of, as having the occupation or pervasion 
of space for a distinguishing mark or property ; for power, action, 
change, and the various accidents of substance, cannot be said to 
occupy space, but only to pervade or accompany substance in its 
occupation of space. 

This brings us to conclude our account of the conception 
Substance ^^ substance, by saying that we generally think of it as the 
' repository and possessor of power. 

Power, whether active or passive, cannot reside in, or be exercised 
by, a space or a time, a shape or a relation, or anything except a 
substance. Nothing can be done or endured unless there be some- 
thing which has the ability to do or to endure; that something is a 
substance. The permanence of any power, or the continuance of its 
activity, is conditioned on the permanent existence of the substance to 
which it belongs. These things are intuitively perceived by us when- 
ever we observe the operation of any power. 

The description of substance which we have now attempted need 
not be regarded as fundamental to any system of philosophy, although 
the doctrine set forth in it may be allowed to have some importance. 



Chap. XXXVL] THE PERCEPTION OF SUBSTANCE. 285 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 
THE PERCEPTION OF SUBSTANCE. 



Soul and 



1. Our first knowledge of spirit and of matter is 
body kimwn obtained from an intuitive, or immediate, cognition of 
^erce\"ion^^ our own soiils and our own bodies, — that is, from our 
The primary cousciousness of our own souls as in different states 
tim^ob-^^ and operations, and from a perception of our own 
tained. bodies as affecting our souls and as being affected 

a oquo e . ^^^ them. All subsequent knowledge is derived and 
developed from this. 

The primary lesson taught by this immediate cognition con- 
tains two closely related truths. We perceive, first, that the soul 
is not the body, nor the body the soul ; and, secondly, that the 
qualities {that is^ the poioers) of the soul^ and the qualities^ 
or poioers., of the body., are extremely different in nature from 
one another. Spirit in relation to matter, and matter in relation 
to spirit, is both ukXov and aXXotov. This double distinction, ' 
intuitively made, is admirably illustrated by a passage in a dia- 
logue of Plato. Socrates is conversing with Alcibiades. 

'* Hold, now," says Socrates, *' with whom do you converse at pres- 
ent? Is it not with me? Alcib. Yes. Socr. And I also with you? 
Alcih. Yes. Socr. It is Socrates then who speaks? Alc'ib. Assuredly. 
Socr. And Alcibiades who listens? Alcib. Yes. Socr. Is it not with 
language that Socrates speaks? J. Zci&. What now? Of course. Socr. 
To converse, and to use language, — are not these then the same? Alcib. 
The very same. Socr. But he who uses a thing and the thing used, — 
are these not different? Alcib. What do you mean? Socr. A currier, 
• — does he not use a cutting-knife and other instruments? Alcih. 
Yes. Socr. And the man who uses the cutting-knife, — is he different 
from the instrument he uses? Alcib. Most certainly. Socr. In like 
manner the lyrist, — is he not different from the lyre he plays on? Alcib. 
Undoubtedly. Socr. This, then, was what I asked you just now, — 
Does not he who uses a thing seem to you always different from the 
thing used? Alcih. Very different. Socr. But the currier, — does he 
cut with his instruments alone, or also with his hands? Alcib. Also 
with his hands. Socr. He then uses his hands? Alcib. Yes. Socr. 
And in his work he uses also his eyes? Alcib. Yes. Socr. We are 
agreed, then, that he who uses a thing and the thing used are different? 
Alcib. We are. Socr. The currier and the lyrist are therefore differ- 
ent from the hands and eyes with which they work? Alcih. So it 
seems. Socr. Now, then, does not a man use his whole body? Alcib. 
Unquestionably. Socr. But we are agreed that he who uses, and that 
which is used, are different? Alcib. Yes. Socr. A man is therefore 



286 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXVI. 

different from his body ? Alcih. So I think. Socr. What then is the 
man? Alcih. I cannot say. Socr. You can say, at least, that the 
man is that which uses the body? Alcib. True. Socr. Xow, does 
anything use the body but the mind? Alcib. Nothing. Socr. The 
mind is therefore the man? Alcih. The mind alone." 

This dialogue brings out the intuitive conviction of mankind. 
The truth which it enunciates is to be found in the language and 
literature of all nations ; and every form of monistic philosoph3', 
in attempting to destroy the distinction between mind and mat- 
ter, simply rolls up the stone of Sisj'phus, that it may fall back 
again to the plain of common sense. 

The words of Hierocles express the judgment of the race, — 

*' 2u yap €? 7] ^vxh ' fh Se aSofxa cov." 
" The soul thou art ; the body, — it is thine." 

ecific ^' ^^^ "^ ^^^ consider, more specifically, the con- 
conceptlona ccptious of soul and of body which intuition enables 
body!^^ ^^^ ^s to form. These for the most part are entertained 
Preliminary in contrast with ouc another. The distinctive attri- 
remar s. i^u^gg ^f ^\^q ^wo kinds of substaucc being extremely 
different from one another, j^et being constantly perceived in 
correlation, our conceptions of the substances which they char- 
acterized are naturally opposed. We do not alwaj's and neces- 
sarily conceive of the mental and of* the material as differing 
from each other ; each ma}" be, and often is, regarded positively 
and independently. But because the tioo are so frequently 
viewed in correlation^ it is not strange that in our ordinary 
conceptions of them the idea of difference and negation should 
mingle with our apprehension of v:hat is positive. 

This is especially noticeable in our conception of bod}^ Hence 
man}^ philosophers make the starting-point — the primary ele- 
ment — of their definition of matter to be that it is the non-ego / 
in other words, the substance which mind perceives as different 
from itself. In like manner we find a tendency" to define the soul 
as immaterial, — that is, as devoid of the distinctive attributes 
of body. There is nothing wrong in this. 

For in defining the leading cognitional conceptions ot the in- 
tellect, we should present, as nearly' as may be, the anah'tical 
expression of these conceptions as they are actually and ordi- 
narily entertained. In this way only we can hope to exhibit 
truly the workings of the mind itself, and therein also to attain 
exact and clear views of the objects of its thought. Philosophi- 
cal definitions, formed independently of the common sense and 
judgment of mankind, or without an impartial and careful inter- 
pi*etation of that judgment, have often proved the chief corner- 



Chap. XXXVI.] THE PERCEPTION OF SUBSTANCE. 287 

stones for an edifice of error. The cause of truth is alwa3's 
served most perfectly when the conceptions of the mind are 
given according to their full natural development. 
Spirit and With these views, and remembering that substance 
matter de- is that form of entity which occupies space and is 
^°®^' endowed with power, we venture two definitions. We 

sa3% first, that mind, or spirit, is the thinking., self-active., and 
intangible substance ; and, secondly, that bod3', or matter, is the 
unthinking., self -helpless., and tangible., or solid., substance. As 
these statements are opposed to each other throughout, they 
may be made the subject of a common discussion. 

The first element in our definition of spirit has in 
untbinicfug" all agcs been regarded as the principal characteristic 
g^Ycif^mus ^f this kind of substance, and as sufl3cient of itself to 
form a distinctive definition, ^y a natural antithesis, 
also, matter has always been regarded as the unthinking sub- 
stance. Mind — mind onl}' — thinks. 

Thought, in this connection, is considered not merely' in its 
own proper nature, but as s^-mbolizing all those peculiar powers 
which consciousness reveals. The term is employed in that broad 
sense which ordinarily should be shunned, and of which Descartes 
took an undue advantage when he declared that the essence of 
the soul consists in thought. 

Although, in strict speech, intellectual activity is not even all 
of the experience of the soul, much less all of the soul itself, 
it is the most prominent part of psychical life, and the chief 
condition of its development. No emotion, desire, or voluntary 
action can take place without thought. Only to sensation 
thought is not prerequisite ; yet it is difficult to believe that sen- 
sation could take place save in a being which should at least 
have a consciousness of that experience. 

When we define spirit as the thinking substance, —that is, the 
substance endowed with sensation, intellect, emotion, desire, 
volition, and all those powers which we distinguish as psychical, 

— we simpl}^ formulate the natural and intuitive judgment of 
man respecting his own nature. As might be expected, the 
doctrine thus presented is a very ancient one. Five hundred 
3'ears before Christ, Epicharmus, the Herodotus of Grecian 
eomed3', tempering his fun with wisdom, wrote : — 

'* Nous opy KoL vovs aKovei, raWa Kucpa Koi rvipxd." 

— words which belong, not to Epicharmus, but to all the chil- 
dren of Adam. 

" What sees is mind, what hears is mind ; 
And ail things else are deaf and blind." 



288 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXVI. 

For when we conceive of spirit as the thinking substance, we 
plainly deny that the other substance from which it is distin- 
guished can think, or have psychical experience. This negative 
teaching of Epicharmus and of common sense is founded partly 
on the fact that matter never in any way manifests psychical 
activit}^ and partl}^, we believe, on our natural perception of the 
incapacit}' of matter to do so. "Whatever evidences of plan and 
desire material things maj* at an}^ time present, they never 
exhibit an3' intelligence or feeling of their own. The laws of 
their action, so far as these can be observed, are purelj^ me- 
chanical, or molecular. 

Design, when indicated hy any arrangement or organization in 
Nature, presents itself exactly like design when displajed in the 
construction and operation of some artificial machine. The most 
careful scrutiny finds nothing more in ever}'' such organization 
than an assemblage of correlated parts which act one upon another 
according to fixed laws, each part unvaryinglj^ performing its 
own function and giving no token of conscious intelligence. 

Nor does the organization as such, being simply the sum of 
its parts in their correlation, show an intelligence of its own. 
Its action is merel}' the resultant of the operations of its parts. 

Not onl}^ so ; we perceive a unity and simplicity in every think- 
ing substance which we find wanting in every physical structure 
or arrangement. Thought cannot be conceived of as the inter- 
action of any collection of heterogeneous substances, whether 
great or small, but only as the activity of one simple, or indi- 
visible, substance. And seeing that everj^ ph3'sical organization 
is composed of parts and particles, we feel that we might as well 
ascribe the intention of pulling or holding to a rope or chain as 
that of growing to a seed or of bearing fruit to a tree, or as 
well the purpose of shining and giving light to a candle as that 
of seeing to the eye or of hearing to the ear. 

Moreover, being forced to concede an intelligent Being sepa- 
rate from those organizations which are the proofs of his ex- 
istence, we do not confine the presence of this spirit to the 
structures of his own formation. We find abundant reason for 
ascribing to him an unrestricted sphere of activit}^ A theory 
which would confine the unseen Author of the universe within 
his physical creations would be no less absurd than to sa}- that 
the human spirit exists within the instruments and agencies it 
forms and uses. It is not credible that the marvellous Mind 
which fashioned the universe and gave it laws was emplo3'ed, 
while doing so, in making chains and a prison for himself. Such 
a task would be equally irrational and impossible for such a 
Being. 



Chap. XXX VI.] THE PERCEPTION OF SUBSTANCE. 289 

The self- A second, and also secondarj^, element in our 

the^seif"^ conception of spirit is that it is self-active ; cor- 
Leipiess responding to which characterization, we have the 
substance, attribution of self-helplessness to matter. The point 
of contrast between body and mind, thus presented, has not 
received much attention from philosophers ; but we believe that 
it is realized and felt by men generally. We often think and 
speak of spirit as something active and living, and of matter 
as something dead and inert ; of spirit as that which controls 
and moves, and of matter as that which is controlled and 
moved. Such statements express a truth, although it may be 
too strongly. 

As we have said, substance of whatever kind is known to us 
as endowed with powers, both active and passive, so that, on 
the one hand, we cannot deny active power to matter, nor, 
on the other, passive power to mind. The majestic motions of 
the heavenh^ bodies, the volcanic and oceanic changes which 
geolog}^ considers, the growth of plants and animals, the 
movements of clouds and currents overhead, the chemical dis- 
solutions and compositions going on around us, attest the 
activity of material potencies. On the other hand, so far at 
least as the present condition of our race is concerned, it is 
plain that the human spirit is constantly subject to the action of 
physical agencies, as these operate, directly or indirectly, upon 
our nervous S3^stem. 

We cannot therefore make the distinction that mind is the 
substance which acts, and matter the substance which is acted 
upon. Matter also acts ; and mind also is acted upon. 

Nevertheless, there is a difference, if we can only apprehend it, 
between the modes of action proper to each substance. Every 
spirit seems to be endowed with a power of activity within it- 
self, so that the current of its life, once opened, flows on forever. 
Human experience, while stimulated, guided, and modified by 
influences from without, properly originates from powers within. 
Hence a state of things is conceivable in which the soul, being 
freed from bodily conditions and affections, may pass a life the 
producing cause of which shall be wholly the energy of the soul 
itself. Such is the activity which we naturally ascribe to God 
and to angelic spirits. No such capability of automatic action 
IS found in any particle of matter or in any material substance. 

No body acts save when it is acted upon"! The most violent of 
physical agents lie perfectly inert and helpless till some cause 
external to themselves arouses them. Chemical molecules show 
no independent activity, but simply act one upon another when 
the proper conditions are supplied. Mechanical motion is im- 

ly 



290 MENTAL SCIENCE, [Chap. XXXVI. 

parted from one body to another, and obeys the law that action 
and reaction are equal. Matter acts only when acted on b}^ 
mind, or when acted on by other matter, — never in any other 
case ; and this inertness, which is frequently' included in our 
conception of physical agents, we have termed the self-helpless- 
ness of matter. 

Finally, we designate mind the intangible substance, 
ami the n?-^ and matter the tangible, or solid, substance. Soliditj^, 
stauce^^ ^^^' ^^ tangibility-, is the principal characteristic of matter, 
and has the same place in our conception of matter 
that thought has in our conception of mind. Thus, substance in 
general being characterized b}' the occupation of space and the 
possession of power, one kind of substance is distinguished by 
the peculiar nature of the power which it possesses, while the 
other kind is marked b}' its peculiar mode of the occupation of 
space. We tliink it a sufficient and distinctive definition to say 
that matter, or body, is the tangible, or solid, substance. Gen- 
erally, too, our conception of spirit involves a negation of this 
attribute, just as that of matter excludes the power of thought. 

Here it must be noted that we use words in a far wider signi- 
fication than ordinarily belongs to them, and in a sense which 
only necessity can justif}'. By " tangibilit}' " and " soliditj' " 
we mean precisely the same thing, using two terms that each 
ma}' qualify the other. We mean that peculiarit}' whereby mat- 
ter occupies space to the exclusion of all other matter, — a qual- 
ity which is made known to us only through sense-perception, 
and which, as alwaj's involving a reference to this mode of 
cognition, might be st^'led the sensible occupation of space. 

This attribute has a simple and indefinable character, where- 
b}' it is distinguished from the occupation of space in general, 
just as the conception of thought, which is the essential mark 
of spirit, is similarly distinguished from that of action, or move- 
ment, in general. It is to emphasize this peculiaritj' that we have 
employed the expression ' ^ tangibilit}'." B}' this term we do not 
mean tactility, or the capabilit}' of perception by touch, but that 
qualit}' which makes material substances capable of impinging 
on the organs of sense and on each other, and which is the con- 
dition of all sense-perception whatever. 

The term " solidity" is more directl}' expressive of this idea, 
but must be received with qualifications. The solidit}' which be- 
longs to matter universally cannot be contrasted with a liquid or 
aeriform condition ; nor is it simi)le spatialit}' or extension. It 
is that kind of space-occupation which must belong to an agent 
before it can aflfect the senses in any wa}', b}' impinging upon 
their organs ; for, as Democritus taught, nothing external can 



Chap. XXXVI.] THE PERCEPTION OF SUBSTANCE. 291 

be perceived save through the affection of some bodil}^ organ, by 
a contact. Some have styled this attribute the ultimate impene- 
trability, or incompressibility, of matter. We prefer the name 
'' solidity," and would treat impenetrability, or incompressibilit}^ 
as the immediate consequence of the solidity. 
Our ordinary ^ * ^"^' Ordinary perception of material things as solid 
perception of enters into, and helps to constitute, the exercise of 
solidity. ^y^, gxternally directed senses, and is especiallj' a part 
of perception by touch. We question whether sight, hearing, 
taste, and smell would, of themselves, and aside from the tac- 
tile sensations which mingle with their proper and special feel- 
ings, impart a knowledge of solidity. This is properly indicated 
by sensible impact, which impact is perceived by touch. 

Experience, however, reveals that the agents which affect the 
other senses are the same, or of the same radical nature, with 
those which affect the touch. We trace hearing to vibrations in 
the air, smell and taste to finely diffused particles, and sight to the 
motions of a medium evidentl}' material, inasmuch as it produces 
chemical and mechanical effects. Thus a sort of tangibihty 
belongs to everything perceived outwardly. 

But while a perception of solidit3' is part of our perception of 
things external to the body, and is especialh' connected with the 
sense of touch, there is reason to believe that our original per- 
ception of this quality, and that from which the conception of 
solidity is derived, takes place when one perceives the solidity 
of his own bod3\ 

Two theories on this point are possible. First, it 
peicef"fon of has been held that the sense of touch alone enables us 
solidity. Two (j^j-ectly to perccivc the solidity of those external 

theories. j_ "^ ^ • ^ xx- i. i - 4. 

agents which may affect us by impact or pressure. 
This sense has been regarded as duplex, — as acting in part by 
means of a titillation of the surface of the body and in part by 
a sense of pressure experienced in the muscular system ; and it 
has been held that the mind, perceiving pressure from without, 
directly conceives and asserts an external solid substance as ex- 
ercising the power manifested by this pressure. According to 
this view, the sense of pressure from without is an occasion on 
which, without any previous and more immediate perception, 
matter, or the solid substance, is conceived of and believed in. 
This view is that given by Locke, Reid, and others, and is allied 
to the doctrine of inferential realism. 

Later philosophers, attempting a more profound analj'sis, have 
held that the cognition and conception of matter external to our 
own bodies is not absolutely original, but is consequent on the 
perception of the matter of our own bodies. 



292 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXVI. 

They divide the sensations which result from causes within the 
bod}' into two comprehensive classes, — first, the vital^ or or- 
ganic, which embraces such feelings as those of wakefulness or 
drowsiness, of vigor or languor, of hunger and thirst, of heat and 
cold, and all the A^arious pains and pleasures directlj' resulting from 
health or from disease. None of these can be said to have a special 
organ, thougli some of them are localized and others generall}' dif- 
fused. The}" pervade the whole sensory system. In connection 
with them perceptions of extension and location may take place, 
but scarcely a perception of the solid. The second class of inter- 
nal sensations are the muscular. These probably have nerves 
specially assigned to them, and, as distinguished from such or- 
ganic feelings as may occur within the muscles, may be regarded 
as including two kinds of sensation, — namely, that resulting from 
the exercise of Tnusciilar power., or " locomotive energy," as 
Hamilton terms it ; and that resulting from the pressure of the 
muscular parts one upon another. This latter feeling may be 
experienced alone, as when a hand lying on a table has some 
weight laid upon it ; but it also is an accompaniment of the 
other, for in all muscular effort or resistance the muscular fibres 
press one upon another. 

The importance of these muscular sensations arises from the 
fact that the mind, while experiencing them, comes into immedi- 
ate and unmistakable relation with two things, —force and mat- 
ter ; the latter being seen as the subject in which the former 
dwells, and the object upon which it is expended. 

The simple conception of matter may be supposed to originate 
in connection with the sense of internal pressure ; for then the 
mind intuitively perceives the solidity of the sensorium which it 
pervades. The conception of force may be supposed to arise 
both in connection with this pressure — in which the compressing 
power, no less than the matter resisting it, is presented — and in 
the perception of muscular effort or resistance (that is, of man's 
own locomotive energy). Of the two theories of the origin of our 
idea of matter which we have now stated, we prefer the latter, 
as it makes the perception of solidity absolutely immediate, and 
thus conforms to the doctrine of presentational realism. 
Locke on "^^^^ definitions of matter and of spirit advocated in 

matter and the present discussion are essentially those of Locke, 
spirit. jjg says: " Our idea of body, as I think, is an ex- 

tended solid substance, capable of communicating motion by 
impulse ; and our idea of soul, as an immaterial spirit, is of a 
substance that thinks, and has a power of exciting motion in 
body by willing or thought. These, I think, are our complex 
ideas of body and soul, as contradistinguished." Here, plainly, 



Chap. XXXVIL] MATTER AND ITS QUALITIES. 293 

thought is made the chief attribute of spirit ; and solidity, of mat- 
ter. The capability of moving by impulse is added by Locke so 
as to define and complete the idea of solidity. 

In the foregoing discussion we have not thought it 
^aUiiIJry"^^' ucccssary to notice the dynamical theory of body, 
ot matter. y^r]^iij\x identifies matter with force. It is simply one 
form of the doctrine which denies the existence of substance, 
and is similar in nature and origin to the idealism of Berkeley 
and the associationalism of Mill. The argument for it is that 
qualities, or powers, are the only things known to us, and that 
we have no right to believe in anything else. The assumption 
here made is false. Substance is known to us as truly and as 
immediately as the powers which it possesses, or the force which 
it exerts. It is true that powers and qualities may be spoken of 
without mention of that substance to which they belong, and 
even whole books may be written after this stjde ; but all such 
lanouao-e has a tacit reference to substance. 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 

MATTER AND ITS QUALITIES. 

1. Having, according to our ability, defined spirit and matter, let us 
discuss this latter substance and its leading characteristics. Although 
few philosophers have attempted the exact definition of matter, almost 
all have undertaken to set forth the leading characteristics of this kind 
of substance. Some consideration of these is desirable if we would 
conceive correctly the generic forms of human thought. 

The various attributes of spirit are studied directly and in detail 
elsewhere by the psychologist, and do not now call for special considera- 
tion; but matter is .studied only in connection with sense-perception, 
and it is a part of the philosophy of this perception to determine the 
nature of our conceptions and convictions concerning material things. 
The end of metaphysical inquiry regarding any subject other than the 
mind itself is accomplished when we may have determined the prin- 
cipal ideas which we rightfully entertain concerning that subject. 

The leading characteristics of body do not include its essential at- 
tributes only, nor even those only which, though not conceived of as 
essential to the very nature of matter, universally accompany that 
nature as its necessary properties or accidents. These characteristics 
include, together with the essential and necessary attributes, those 
also which, to any very wide extent, affect material substances, and 
determine our more general conceptions concerning them. Some con- 
fusion has prevailed on this point; and this, united to an indistinct 



294 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXVII. 

conception of the essential nature of matter, has retarded the progress 
of philosophy in the inquiry concerning material properties. Any one 
who desires to trace the history of opinions respecting this subject 
will find a full and masterly discussion in one of the '• Dissertations " 
of Sir William Hamilton, in which, also, the views of Hamilton him- 
self are ably presented. One's estimate of these views will be modi- 
fied and determined by the conception and definition of matter he may 
be able to form; but in any case they may be accepted as an advance 
on the opinions of all preceding authors, and as the basis for the satis- 
factory settlement of questions that have been long debated. 

Aristotle was the first who formally enumerated the 
quoted t necessary attributes of body, and distinguished them from 
coinmonand others which do not of necessity belong to matter of every 
bies^^Lock?' ^"^^ ^^^^ ^^^ every case. In his treatise concerning sense 
primary and* (cap. i.), he divides things perceivable by sense into two 
secondary classes, — the common^ which are perceived by all or most of 
qua 1 les. ^j^^ senses ; and the proper, the perception of which is pe- 
culiar to one sense or to another. The common sensibles, according 
to Aristotle, are figure, size, motion, rest, and number (Xeyco 5e Koiva 
(Txw"-') f^^yedos, KivTjaLv, (TTaaiv, aptOjiov), elsewhere adding to these, 
place, distance, position, and continuity. The proper sensibles are 
such things as smells, colors, tastes, sounds, together with the percepts 
of touch, such as the rough and the smooth, the hard and the soft, the 
hot and the cold, the light and the heavy; and they include also that 
radical property of matter which we have named solidity. 

Two thousand years after the Stagirite taught the doctrine which we 
have now explained, Locke made his noted distinction between the 
primary and secondary qualities of matter. " Qualities in bodies are," 
he says, " first, such as are utterly inseparable from the body in what 
state soever it be. . . . For example, take a grain of wheat, divide it 
into two parts; each part has still solidity, extenaion^fgure, and mohil' 
ity. Divide it again, and it retains still the same qualities. And so 
divide it on till tlie parts become insensible; they must retain still 
each of them all those qualities. For division (which is all that a 
mill or pestle, or any other body, does upon another in reducing it to 
insensible parts) can never take away either solidity, extension, figure, 
or mobility from any body, but only makes two or more distinct sepa- 
rate masses of matter of that which was one before; all which dis- 
tinct masses, reckoned as so many distinct bodies, after division make 
a certain number. These, therefore, I call original or primary qualities 
of body, which I think we may observe to produce simple ideas in us, — 
viz., solidity, extension, figure, motion, or rest, and number; secondly, 
such qualities as, in truth, are nothing in the objects themselves but 
powers to produce various sensations in us by their primary qualities, 
— that is, by the bulk, figure, texture, and motion of their insensible 
parts, such as colors, sounds, tastes, and so forth, — these I call secondary 
qualities.''^ 

With these secondary qualities Locke classed also " the power that 
is in any body, by reason of the particular constitution of its primary 
qualities, to make such a change in the bulk, figure, texture, and mo- 
tion of another body as to make it operate on our senses differently 



Chap. XXXVIL] MATTER AND ITS QUALITIES. 295 

from what it did before. Thus the sun has a power to make wax 
white, and fire to make lead fluid." Elsewhere Locke adds to the 
primary qualities situation and texture, or consistency. 

Comparing Locke with Aristotle, as to his view of the universal 
attributes of matter, there is, at first sight, no important difference. 
Inspection, however, reveals that the modern differs from the ancient 
philosopher in two respects. 

First, his point of view is different. Locke speaks of common quali- 
ties, not of common sensibles; he regards the things perceived, as in their 
relation to matter, the direct and fundamental object of sense-perception, 
rather than as related to our various senses, or faculties of perception. 
This is an improvement; for the inquiry and thinking of the mind is 
naturally objective, and even in philosophy we wish to know the ob- 
jects of thought in themselves rather than in their relations to our 
means of knowing them. This latter point of view is subordinate to 
the former. 

Secondly, — and what is more important, — Locke adds solidity to 
the list of Aristotle, and in so doing not only gives the most essential 
of all the sensibles, hut also leads us to modify and determine correctly 
our conception of those attributes which Aristotle mentions. This addition 
was rendered possible by the point of view which the inquiry of Locke 
assumed. There might be a question whether solidity is really a com- 
mon sensible, as this attribute is specially discerned in connection 
with tactual and muscular sensations. But there can be no question 
that solidity is an universal and essential attribute of matter, and that 
attribute by which alone the affections of sense are rendered possible. 

Such being the case, we may say that the remaining attributes are not 
things conceived of simply, but things conceived of as perceptibly belonging 
to a solid substance. Number, for example, belongs to spirits, and 
their thoughts and powers, as well as to material entities; in fact, the 
number here mentioned is simply the perceptible numerical difference 
pertaining to the separable portions of matter. Hence it is often indi- 
cated by the term "divisibility." So, also, rest and motion are not 
peculiar to bodies; for souls go and stay wherever the bodies containing 
them may go and stay. In like manner size, as distinguished from 
mere spatiality, or extension, ndicates that space-occupation which is 
perceivable by the senses. Figure denotes that definite shape which 
we are led to assign to every material body, and to the particles of 
which it is composed. All these are common sensibles, not simply 
per se, and by reason of their own nature, but specifically, and as they 
are related to matter and its solidity. 

In connection with the foregoing, and confirmatory of it, we note 
that the radical characteristics of body, as given by Locke and Aristotle, 
are all conditioned on the space-relations of matter. They have nothing 
to do with time-relations. No mention is made of the endurance of 
matter, although it is evident that all bodies are perceived as having a 
permanency of existence; neither do they include the characteristic of 
potency, although all matter is perceived as having causative power. 
The reason for this omission we find in the fact that the real aim of 
both authors was to enumerate the universal properties of matter, so 
far as these are immediately conditioned on its essential attribute, 



296 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXVII. 

rather than an exhaustive list of the universal predicables of matter. 
This, at least, was Locke's intention. 

Aside from its historical interest, the discussion as to the 
poitauce ^S' pi'in^ary characteristics of body is important chiefly as con- 
this topic, firming the thought that solidity is the essential attribute 
'^''^Td'^^^^ in our ordinary conception of matter; for this doctrine is 
the key to the whole inquiry. Hence some, who have sup- 
posed the question limited to the essential or constitutive character- 
istics", have discarded all attributes save "extension and solidity." 
M. Royer Collard, the able French advocate of the Scottish philoso- 
phy, took this position. But in defining matter we think that exten- 
sion may be omitted, for it is presupposed in solidity; the mention of 
it only makes our conception of body more explicit. 

Accepting, as the primary attributes of matter, extension, solidity, 
and such other characteristics as are universally and peculiarly con- 
nected with these, we are prepared to consider those attributes which 
very widely characterize material substances without being necessarily 
connected with the existence of matter everywhere and always. 

These have been the theme of great discussions. A critical review 
of opinions concerning them, as also concerning the primary qualities, 
may be found in that extremely able paper to which we have referred, 
and which is the most valuable of those "Dissertations" which Sir 
William Hamilton published as " Notes " on the philosophy of Reid. 

The chief defect in Hamilton's discussion is that he does not 
sufficiently distinguish solidity as the central and essential thought in 
our conception of matter; he rather makes this to be extension, and 
solidity to be a necessary property of extension. No theory of body 
and its qualities which misses the true distinction between these two 
attributes can prove satisfactory. But the " Dissertation " is a mas- 
terly production, and may be accepted as the basis for a settlement 
of the vexed questions of which it treats. 

Hamilton's list of primary qualities is as follows: "1. Extension; 
2. Divisibility; 3. Size; 4. Density or Rarity; 5. Figure; 6. Incom- 
pressibility absolute ; 7. Mobility; 8. Situation." Here divisibility is 
the same as the number of Aristotle; size and density are of the same 
radical nature, for each is a kind of quantity, and the two together 
form an absolute measure of the quantity of matter in any body; and 
incompressibility indicates solidity, of which it is the immediate con- 
sequence. The list would seem to us incapable of improvement, pro- 
vided only solidity were added immediately after extension, and 
allowed to qualify our conceptions of the remaining attributes. 
The non- 2. But the " Dissertation " goes on to discuss those qualities 

primary which are not primary. These are divided into two classes, 
Distin-^^' ^^^^ secundo-primary and the secondary. The ground of this 
guished and division is not stated ; but it plainly lies in the fact that 
matter exercises power in two ways. For, in the first place, 
matter can act variously upon other matter; and, secondly, 
it can act on the soul so as to excite various sensations, through the 
affection of our sensorial organization. The former class of qualities 
are styled " secundo-primary," because they are perceived only in the 
action of body on body as such, and therefore in a sense may be said 



divided into 
two classes. 



Chap. XXXVII] MATTER AND ITS QUALITIES. 297 

to involve solidity and the other primary qualities; but the latter class 
is termed " secondary," because they are first perceived simply as 
powers (resident, of course, in some substance) to produce certain 
sensations within the soul. 

It is true that secondary qualities may often be explained, and may 
always be accounted for, as immediately resulting from some particular 
development of the secundo-primary ; and cases arise in which powers 
belonging to these two classes may form a unity and be thought of 
together and under one conception. For example, hardness and soft- 
ness, roughness and smoothness, may be regarded both as certain dis- 
positions of the particles of solid bodies, and as the causes of certain 
sensations in our nervous system. 

The distinction, however, between the secundo-primary and the sec- 
ondary is rightly made, even though it may sometimes call us to dis- 
criminate a thing as viewed in one light from itself as viewed" in 
another. It is not weakened, but confirmed, by the analysis of those 
cases in which the two modes of quality combine ; and it is necessary 
if we would describe and distinguish our conceptions of outer things 
according to their natural formation in the mind. 

That a reference to solidity qualifies our conception of the secundo- 
primary characteristics of matter is taught by Hamilton when he says 
that these qualities are known by pressure; for this is the indication of 
solidity. His words are: "They have all relation to space and to 
motion in space, and are all contained under the category of resistance 
or pressure. ' ' We would prefer to say that they all become knoivn to us in 
connection loith pressure and resistance. Moreover, we prefer a different 
statement from that of Hamilton, when he says that the secundo- 
primary qualities may be considered in two lights, — the objective, or 
physical, and the subjective, or psychological; the latter referring to 
the sensations which they are able to cause. Whenever qualities are 
viewed simply as the causes of sensations, we would consider and call 
them secondary; but whenever they may be viewed as related to both 
physical and psychical effects, we would regard them as a combination 
of the secondary with the secundo-primary. But secundo-primary 
qualities, per se, seem wholly physical, or objective. 

Finally, that peculiar class of qualities which Locke inclines to 
place with the secondary may better be regarded as secundo-primary 
quaAities, perceived and conceived of by means of an external character or 
relation. Though they refer to psychical results, they immediately 
relate to the action of matter upon matter. 

The secundo- ^® shall now give Hamilton's account of the secundo- 
primary primary qualities almost in his own w^ords. His classifica- 
qualities ^ion of the qualities has reference to the general nature of 
■ the forces manifested in them. These are of three kinds, — 
namely, that of co-attraction., that of repulsion., and that of inertia. 

a. There are two subaltern genera of co-attraction, — to wit, that of 
gravity, or the co-attraction of the particles of body in general; and 
that of cohesion, or the co-attraction of the particles of this and that 
body in particular. Gravity or weight, according to its degree, which 
is in proportion to the bulk and density of ponderable matter, affords 
the relative qualities of the heavy and the light. Cohesion, using that 



298 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXVU. 

term in its most unexclusive universality, is the basis of many species 
of qualities. Without proposing an exhaustive list, we enumerate : 
(1) the hard and the soft: (2) the firm or solid, and the fluid or liquid, 
— this last being subdivided into the thick and the thin ; (3) the viscid 
and the friable ; (4) the tough and the brittle ; (5) the rigid and the 
flexible ; (6) the fissile and the infissile; (7) the ductile and the induc- 
tile ; (8) the retractile, or cohesively elastic, and the irretractile ; (9) the 
rough and the smooth ; and (10) the slippery and the tenacious. 

b. The force of repulsion is manifested in greater or less degrees of 
resistance to compression, — that is, in (1) relative compressibility and 
incompressibility ; and also in greater or less degrees of i-esiliency, or 
the elasticity of repulsion, — that ]s, (2) in resiliency and irresiiiency. 

c. Inertia — or, more fully, the vis inertice — is the tendency whereby 
body continues in a state of rest or of motion till acted upon from with- 
out.' Combined with bulk and cohesion, it results in the movable and 
immovable, — that is, the easy and the difficult to move. 

In the foregoing list the powers of chemical combination and of 
molecular adhesion are omitted, and should perhaps be added to 
those qualities which are enumerated under the general head of co- 
hesion. The tendency to chemical combination is an important and 
widely operative attribute of matter ; and so, also, is that adhesive 
force which is exhibited in capillary action, in the solution of a solid 
in a liquid substance, and in the saturation of one fluid substance by 
another. Such is the enumeration of Hamilton. 

3. AVe now pass to the secondary qualities of matter. 
quailtSfare These maybe defined as causes existing in body to produce 
causes con- the various sensations of which man is capable, considered 
ceivedof by v^7ithout reference to their own constitution, but simply as 
an external ,, £ j-u j.- 

mark. the causes oi the sensations. 

We may be ignorant of the nature of that which produces 
some sensation in us, while yet we are sure that there is something 
external to us which has a power to affect us in a given way. Only 
philosophic research reveals the nature of such things as color, sound, 
odor, heat, cold, and so forth ; but every one knows that things are 
colored, sonorous, odoriferous, hot, and cold, for these are all the 
objects of special perceptions. 

We cannot approve of the language of Professor Stewart and other 
authors who speak of secondary qualities as the unknown causes of our 
sensations ; this language is calculated to mislead. Every such quality 
is known as a cause, and much even may be ascertained of the character 
of the cause. But it is to be allowed that our conception of the quality 
does not contain any reference to the particular constitution of the 
cause, and may be formed and entertained while we are ignorant of 
that conj>titution. 

That secondary qualities are of the nature of causes is taught by Locke 
when he says that they are " nothing but powers to produce various 
sensations in us ; " which doctrine has come down from Aristotle, and 
accords with the universal belief of. men. When men say that fire is 
hot, and that grass is green, and sugar sweet, and thunder loud, they 
mean not only that we have given sensations, but that there is a 
power in certain things to produce these feelings. To ascribe such a 



Chap. XXXVIL] MATTER AND ITS QUALITIES. 299 

power to any object does not necessarily involve that any soul is or will 
be actually affected by it, but only that the proper affection can and 
will be pi'oduced whenever the object may be brought to act on the 
seusorium. There is literal truth iu what the poet says : — 

"Full many a gem of purest ray serene 

The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear : 
Full many a flower js born to blush unseen, 
And waste its sweetness on the desert air." 

Moreover, there is no reason to suppose that the external quality 
resembles the feeling in the mind, or partakes of its nature. The 
quality is simply a power in some material substance to cause a pecu- 
liar motion in the matter of our nervous system ; and even this motion 
is something wholly different from sensation, the latter being an affec- 
tion of the mind excited by the nervous action, but deriving its peculiar 
character from the activity of the mind itself. The perception of the 
quality takes place when we perceive the sensation a*- an effect and as 
determined hy nome cause not within the soul itself. 

These remarks will explain that war of words as to whether heat 
and cold, colors, sounds, tastes, and smells exist in external ob- 
jects, or in the mind only, or in both. They plainly reside in both, 
but in different senses. The sensations of heat and cold, color and 
taste, are m the mind only ; the external causes or conditions of these 
sensations reside in bodies. It is the part of such sciences as acoustics 
and optics to ascertain the nature of these causes and the mode of 
their operation ; and modern investigation only confirms the conjec- 
ture which Aristotle ascribes to Deniocritus, that savors, odors, and 
colors consist in the configuration and action of particles of matter. 
Summary The views whicli have now been advocated may be 

of views. summed up as follows. Bi/ the qualities of body philosophers 
have meant those properties which belong exclusively to matter, or the solid 
substance. The principal primary qualities are solidity, size, figure^ 
mobility, divisibility, and situation ; to which possibly two or three others 
less noticeable might be added. These are conceived of, not abstractly, 
but as attributes necessarily, and therefore universally, accompanying 
solidity. 

The secundo-primary qualities are powers which bodies have to act 
upon one another. They also are immediately perceived, and con- 
ceived of, as connected with solidity, yet not necessarily concomitant of it. 
Only solid bodies are known to attract and repel each other in space, 
and to resist any change from a state either of rest or of motion. Yet 
we might conceive matter to exist without any powers of atti-action or 
repulsion or inertia. Science has established that some of the laws 
according to which matter acts upon matter are very general. The 
proposition has been ably maintained that gravity and inertia are 
universal attributes. It is the province of scientific inquiry, not of 
immediate intuition, to determine such questions and all others relating 
to the nature and extent of the secundo-primary qualities of body. 

Finally, the secondary qualities are powers residing in material things 
to produce sensations in us. We cannot accept the language of Ham- 
ilton when he says : " As we are chiefly concerned M'ith these qualities 
on their subjective side, I request it may be observed that I shall 



300 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXVIII. 

employ the expression secondary qualities to denote those phenomenal 
affections determined in our sentient organism by the agency of ex- 
ternal bodies, and not, unless when otherwise stated, the occult powers 
themselves from which that agency proceeds." Only confusion can 
result if we identify sense-affecting qualities with the affections which 
they produce. But we may conceive of powers without reference to 
the physical conditions out of w^hich they arise. AVe may do so even 
while ignorant of the nature of such conditions, the essential or differ- 
entiating element in our conception being purely relative, and based 
on the effect w^hich the power produces ; thus w^e conceive of the 
secondary qualities of matter. 

The real ground of the division of properties, which we have now 
considered. Lies in the different ways in which our perception and conception 
of solidity — or of extension and solidity, the esseiUial properties of matter 
— are related to our perception and conception of material properties in 
general While all the qualities, according to our ultimate understand- 
ing of them, belong exclusively to matter, the primary attributes are 
perceived, and conceived of, as necessarily belonging to all extended 
and solid substances ; the secundo-primary as belonging only to matter 
or the solid substance, yet, so far as we can see, contingently; while 
the secondary qualities are perceived, and conceived of, without any 
such perception of their relation to an extended solid. From the first 
they are perceived as powers belonging to a substance other than the 
soul, and external to it ; but it is by subsequent comparison and judg- 
ment that they are connected with solidity in the substances which 
they characterize. Hence our conceptions of them do not ordinarily 
contain any reference to solidity. 



CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

CONCOMITANT PERCEPTION. 

Concomitant 1. The distinction between direct and concomitant 
deSSd perception has not received the recognition which it 
established, deserves. Most writers, and in particular those who 
Locke, and have lived within the last one hundred years, have em- 
Eeid quoted, j^j-aced all our immediate knowledge under the heads 
of consciousness and sense-perception. 

They have been induced to do so partly because the same 
discussion applies largely to all our original cognitions, and yet 
more because our concomitant perceptions are so intermingled 
and united with those which are more direct, that the former 
have naturall}^ been treated as subordinate parts of the latter. 

This method of treatment has a great disadvantage. It 
brings the language of philosophy into conflict with that of com- 



Chap. XXXVIII.] CONCOMITANT PERCEPTION. 301 

mon speech ; it makes philosophy use words wrongly, and teach 
what is not strictly and literally correct. To say that space is 
perceived by sense-perception, and duration by consciousness, is 
to teach what is not true according to our ordinary conception 
of the operations and objects of these powers ; neither can we 
sa}^ that the relations of number or quantity or causation are 
perceived by these powers, or by either one of them. But we 
can affirm that space, time, number, quantity, and causation are 
perceived in connection vnth the objects both of sense-percep- 
tion and of consciousness. 

The adoption of language other than this has led some to 
make a division of these common objects so as to assign some 
of them to sense-perception 'and some to consciousness, — a di- 
vision arising solely from the assumption that there are only two 
modes of immediate cognition. The better plan in this case, as 
in every other in which it can be employed, is to conform the 
language of philosophy to that of daily life. Following this 
method, we maj^ hope to obtain more correct apprehensions, both 
as to our perceptions and as to the objects of our perceptions, 
than can be obtained in any other waj^ 

Although concomitant perception has not received any formal 
place in the systems of philosophers, their writings contain inti- 
mations which greatly justify its more perfect recognition. Aris- 
totle teaches that there are three kinds of sensibles, or (as the 
word might be translated) of sense-perceptibles, and that two of 
these are perceived in themselves {KaO' awra), while one is per- 
ceived by its accidents (/caro. avfj.^e^rjK6<i). By this last we 
understand the object of acquired perception, as when, seeing a 
white thing, we recognize the son of Diares ; for to be the son 
of Diares is something contingent, and not necessarj^, to the 
whiteness perceived. About this kind of perceptibles we are 
sometimes mistaken. 

Of things sensible in themselves, and about which we do not 
mistake, there are two kinds, — the 2yroper, which belong sev- 
erally to the several senses ; and the common, which belong to 
all. The common are motion, rest, number, form, and size. 
But, adds Aristotle, " of things sensible in themselves, the proper 
are pre-eminently objects of sense perception, and things to which 
the nature of each sense is adapted " ("• rcov Se KaO' avra alo-Orjrwv, 
TO. t'Sta Kvpioi^ io-Tiv alaOrjTa, kol 7rpb<; a rj ovctlcl irecfiVKev €Kd(TTr]<s 
ala-Orjo-eoi^"). Thus he makes the common sensibles to be the 
objects of sense only in a secondary and improper way. Else- 
where he styles them the concomitants and consequents (aKoXov- 
Oevra, eTro/xeva) of the proper. 

Locke, though ver}- inadequate!}', recognizes concomitant per- 



302 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXVIIL 

ception as a " suggestion " of the mind. He sa3's : " Existence 
mid unity are two ideas that are suggested to the understand- 
ing by every object without and every idea within. When ideas 
are in our minds we consider tliem as being actually there, as 
well as we consider things to be actually without us, w^hich is, 
that they exist or have existence ; and whatcA^er we can consider 
as one thing, whether a real being or idea, suggests to the under- 
standing the idea of unit3^ . . . Besides these there is another 
idea, which, though suggested b}' our senses, yet is more con- 
stantly offered us by what passes in our own minds, and that is 
the idea of succession ; for if we look immediately into our- 
selves, and rejflect on what is observable there, we shall find our 
ideas always, whilst we are awake or have an}^ thought, passing 
in train, one going and another coming, without intermission." 

In much the same strain Reid writes : " Extension seems to he 
a quality suggested to us. We are commonly told b}^ philoso- 
phers that we get the idea of extension by feeling along the ex- 
tremities of a bod}', as if there was no manner of difficult}^ in the 
matter. I have sought with great pains, I confess, to find out 
how this idea can be got hy feeling, but I have sought in vain." 
Elsewhere he sa3's : '' Space, whether tangible or visible, is not 
so properly an object of sense as a necessary concomitant of the 
objects both of sight and touch." 

Concomitant differs from direct perception onl}' as to its ob- 
jects and our mode of viewing them, not at all in the radical 
character of its own action. 

We stj'le this perception and its objects indirect, not because 
they are an}' less immediate than those of other presentational 
cognitions, but because the attention and interest of the mind 
are less directh' given to them than to the perceptions and ob- 
jects which they accompany. The spectator of a horse-race 
attends primarilj^ to the animals and their action. In connec- 
tion with these he perceives — less directl}', but no less cer- 
tainly — the space traversed, the time occupied, and the changing 
positions of the contestants with reference to one another. Hence 
we divide his cognitions into the direct and the indirect, or the 
principal and the concomitant. 

The objects ^- '^^^ objects of perception in general are the same 
of concomi- as the elements of existence in general. These may 
tilm/Three be enumerated as substance, power, action, change, 
classes. space, time, quantity, and relation. These elements 
are never perceived save in the complexities which they form with 
one another. The first four may be regarded as the direct., and 
the last four as the indirect., objects of perception. When a 
ball is rolled on the ground, we perceive it as (1) a body, (2) en- 



Chap. XXXVIII-l CONCOMITANT PERCEPTION. 803 

dowed with inertia, and (3) exercising a momentum which causes 
(4) motion, or change of place. At the same time these things 
are seen as (1) related to one another and to other similar ob- 
jects, and to (2) space and (3) time, and as having (4) quantit}^ 
So, also, if the ball be propelled by one's own hands, he per- 
ceives (1) his own soul, and (2) his locomotive energ}" and (3) 
its action, and (4) the change in himself from one kind of activ- 
ity to another. And these things are seen under their (1) mutual 
relations, and those of (2) space, (3) time, and (4) quantity. 

This distinction, however, between modes of cognition refers 
primarily to the action of the mind, and only secondarily, and 
in a less rigorous way, to the objects of the cognition. It might 
especially be a question, in some particular case, whether change, 
or quantity, were perceived direct!}^ or indirectly ; and the ques- 
tion would be unimportant. 

The advantage of making our indirect perceptions a special 
object of study will become particularlj' apparent from two con- 
siderations : first, the fact that necessary as v^ell as contingent 
relations are^ /)rimari7y, matters of immediate x>erce2:)tion has 
not hitherto had that prominence which is due to it in philosophy ; 
and, secondl}', it is clear that the cognition of non-existence can 
have no place in a system of the human inind, unless it also 
he assigned to the sphere of concomitant perception. 

For the sake of method in further discussion, the presentations 
of this power may be regarded as having three classes of objects, 
and so, with reference to their objects, as being embraced under 
three heads. Under the first head let us consider the intuitions 
of space, time, and quantity ; under the second, our perception 
of relations of whatever kind, including those of contingency 
and necessity ; and under the third, our cognition of the non- 
existent and the impossible of ever}^ kind of entity. 

The objects of the first class are perceived in con- 
and'^^quan- ucctiou with relations which depend on them, yet they 
*^*y- themselves are not relations : they are fundamenta 

between which and other fundamenta relations exist. To say, 
with Leibnitz and others, that " space is an order of co-exist- 
ences, and time an order of successions," ma3'*be profoundh^ philo- 
sophical ; but it is a violation of common sense. Space and time 
are the antecedent conditions of co-existence and of successions. 

Moreover, not onl}" are things related to these entities, but 
such relations maj^ in their turn, become the fundamenta of 
new relations. Two fields, as occup3'ing certain positions, are 
related to space ; and hy reason of these positions, thej' may be 
contiguous to, or separated from, each other. The lives of two 
men are each related to those periods of time during which they 



304 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXVIII. 

are passed ; and by reason of these relations, they may be con- 
temporaneous with one another, or the contrar3^ Two bodies 
each contain a fixed quantity of matter ; and with reference to 
their respective quantities, they are equal, or unequal, to each 
other. 

Space, with its relations, is especially perceived in connection 
with body and its changes. Exact measurements of space are 
possible for us only through the use of material standards ; yet 
spatial perceptions take place also in connection with the ex- 
periences of spirit. On the other hand, time is perceived espe- 
cially in connection with the changes w^hich occur in our own 
souls. Being conscious at once of the enduring sameness of the 
ego itself and of its fleeting states and operations, we cannot but 
notice that peculiar kind of entity in relation to which some 
things are permanent and others transitory. But bod}^ no less 
than spirit, is intuitivel}^ seen as a permanent entity with tran- 
sitory states ; therefore, we doubt not, time is immediately 
perceived in connection with the existence and the changes of 
the non-ego. 

Tiieterm^^ Here wc must remark that in the doctrine of im- 
in'pblSso'- mediate perception the term "present" should not 
v^Y- be limited absolute!}^ to one point of duration, but 

should include so much time as may be occupied b}' any act or 
object of unbroken attention. AYe claim for the mind a power 
to perceive immediatelj' the continuit}^ of time as well as the 
continuity of space ; and we include this among our presenta- 
tional perceptions. This is no violation of ordinar}^ thought and 
language. On the contrary, it is unnatural to call a continuous 
perception of the continued present a recollection of the past. 

This ability to perceive the continued must be admitted if there 
be any such thing as an intuition of time. It ma}^ be regarded 
as the initial exercise of that power which develops itself into 
memory ; in which light it furnishes a ke}^ perhaps the onl}^ pos- 
sible key, to an understanding of the facult}' of reminiscence. 

The element of quantity is so intimately united in existence 
and perception with the other elements of entit}', that onl^" some 
special analysis, caused by the comparison of quanta, or things 
as having quantit3% makes it a distinct object of thought. For 
this reason the perception of it does not have the character of 
concomitance to the same degree as the perception of space 
and time. But when tw^o things — for example, two weights — 
alike in every respect save quantity, are compared and found to 
differ, then we give this name to that in respect to which they 
differ. We perceive, also, that the possession of quantity' is the 
foundation for certain relations between things. It is as quanta 



Chap. XXXVIIL] CONCOMITANT PERCEPTION. 305 

that things are greater or less or equal in respect to each other, 
and are capable of number and of diminution and increase. 
Have we an Here we ma}^ ask whether our first perceptions are 
intuition of confined to things of a limited nature, or do we have 
the infinite? ^^ intuition of the infinite? 

In regard to this point we remark, first, that knowledge need 
not be intuitive in order to be reliable. B}' far the greater part 
of human knowledge is not intuitive ; the presentational charac- 
ter is not necessary to the certaint}^ of knowledge. Man^^ how- 
ever, assuming more or less explicitl}^ that the infinite cannot be 
known inferentiallj, have constructed doctrines as to the cogni- 
tion of the infinite that are difficult to comprehend, and yet more 
difficult to accept. The student of such doctrines should be 
pardoned if at times he become wearj^ of philosophy, or at 
least of philosophers. 

But the discussion of these teachings has this merit, that it 
prepares one to accept some theory by which the cognition of 
the infinite may he accounted for as « constructwe and inferen- 
tial perception. Therefore we remark, secondl}^ that we find 
no serious objection to such a theory of inferential perception, 
and that, on the contrar}^ there is something unnatural, if not 
absurd, in ascribing the intuition of things infinite to finite crea- 
tures such as we are. It is certain that the knowledge of finite 
things greater than ourselves results from the employment of 
standards of measurement found in our own souls and bodies ; 
in this way we attain to the cognition of things unspeakably 
great. May we not, then, in this manner become acquainted 
with things absolutely boundless ? 

The infinite is that which is so great, in any one or more re- 
spects, as to be immeasurable b\^ any standard. Take the per- 
ception of infinite space. In connection with the motion of our 
limbs we learn that if there be no obstructing power, bod}^ maj" 
move without hindrance in any direction and to any distance. 
We perceive that this is necessary by reason of the ver}^ nature 
of space. Thereupon, combining negative wdth positive think- 
ing, we conceive and believe in a space which admits in every 
direction of endless motion, and which itself is hmitless. In 
precisely the same way «\^e recognize a duration without begin- 
ning and without end. Then, with but another step, we 'con- 
ceive of a Being whose presence fills immensity, whose life is 
eternal, whose pow^er is the ultimate origin of all finite potency, 
and whose existence solves the mysteries of creation and provi- 
dence. We admit that finite beings cannot attain to any ex- 
haustive knowledge of the infinite ; we allow that no human, no 
angelic, mind can " find out the Almighty to perfection." But 

20 



806 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXVIII. 

finite understandings can and do form true conceptions and 
convictions concerning boundless space and endless time and 
the infinite God. 

Relations. ^' "^^^ perception of relations is a very important 

Their percep- part of intellectual action, and is equally concomitant 

tion twofold : n • i^ j' l 11 .-, - 

1. As matters 01 cousciousuess and oi sense-perccptiou. All tlnngs 
mauers^of^^ cxist as related to one another, and as bound together 
contingency in ncccssar}' or logical relations, 
and necessity. Relations have been described as intermediate en- 
tities ; but, literally speaking, nothing exists between things 
related. The intermediacy pertains to our modes of conception, 
and not to the things conceived of. Ever}^ simple or single 
relation may be regarded as composed of two relationships, each 
of w^hich belongs to and characterizes a relatum ; and every 
relationship ma3" be styled a sort of correspondence or opposi- 
tion in the nature of one thing to that of another. 

Relations exist betw^een things viewed simpl}^ as entities, be- 
tween the seven fundamental entities or their subordinate varie- 
ties, and between relations themselves. This class of objects, 
therefore, exhibit endless diversitj' and complexit3\ At present 
we are concerned wdth the perception of relations ; and this, in 
common with the cognition of every other form of being, may 
"be considered as twofold. First of all, we may perceive a thing 
simph?^ as fact ; and, secondly, we may perceive it as contin- 
gently or as necessaril}^ fact — that is, in other words and 
more briefly, we may perceive its contingency or necessit3^ So 
we ma}^ perceive a relation simply as a fact, and we ma}' recog- 
nize it as contingent or as necessar}^ 

Few will dispute that the relations belonging to the direct 
objects of the soul's immediate apprehension are also immediately 
apprehended, — that is, so far as their simple realitj^ is concerned. 
I perceive at once the relations of a leaden ball which I hold, — 
for example, its contiguity and likeness to another ball beside it, 
its place in m}' hand, and the relations involved in its shape, 
size, weight, unity, mobility, and so forth. 

But when we come to inquire how far these perceived rela- 
tions ma}" be contingent and how far necessarj", it may be claimed 
that our judgments regarding these aspects of things are not 
properl}" perceptions at all, but merely suggestions which the 
mind cannot but make, but which nevertheless ma}' or may not 
be true. . This is the teaching of Kant when he speaks of the 
a priori origin of various judgments and notions, and contrasts 
them with a posteriori judgments and notions. For example, 
he says that our ideas of space and time, and our necessary 
judgments concerning them, are a priori^ — that is, independent 



Chap. XXXVIII.] CONCOMITANT PERCEPTION 307 

of experience, and of the knowledge that experience gives of 
things without. 

For, with Kant, experience is really identical with our per- 
ception of things external. Thus, according to him, our a priori 
notions and judgments have no necessary objective truth, — 
that is, no necessary truth at all. Such teaching is unsatisfactor3^ 

The terms a priori and a posteriori^ as applied to our per- 
ceptions of the ontologically necessary and the ontologicall}' 
contingent, should be banished forever from the use of phi- 
losoph3\ Their effect is to confuse our thoughts in regard to 
the true action of the perceptive power. There is a difference 
in perceptions ; but this arises, not because some ideas are 
suggested from within and others obtained from without, — not 
because some thoughts are subjective forms and others true 
cognitions, — but because the things perceived are themselves 
different from each other. 

All our cognitions are equally the mind's own work, and re- 
sult from the exercise of intellectual power, — all are percep- 
tions of realities ; but in some we perceive the existence of things 
and their relations merel}' as matter of fact, while in others we 
perceive it as necessary or as contingent fact. Therefore, also, 
whatever priorit}' our perceptions of ontological necessity or 
contingency may have over those of simple fact, is not subjec- 
tive, but objective, — it is logical rather than psychological ; our 
distinction between these things arises primarily from the nature 
of the things distinguished, and only secondarily from the na- 
ture of mind as being able to perceive correctly things and their 
differences. 

Contingency The immediate cognition of things merety as exist- 
a"d necessity ing m2ij be divided, with a sort of equality, between 
concomitant direct and concomitant perception ; but that of the 
perception. contingencT or of the necessity of any matter of fact 
belongs to concomitant perception only. That the space occu- 
pied by an}^ particular body' necessarily exists, and that the 
body necessarily is an occupant of space, are things perceived 
immediately, but not directly. That the body does not neces- 
saril}' occupy the space it is in, but may move into some other 
space, and that a neighboring body of the same size ma}- occupy 
the space left vacant, are contingent truths perceived in the same 
wa3\ These perceptions of necessity and of contingency are not 
properly included within sense-perception. 

Contingency and necessity, which we have now given as ob- 
jects to concomitant perception, ma}' be regarded as relations 
between the existence of things or relations^ and the circicm- 
stances with which this existence is accompanied. A thing is 



308 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXVIII. 

necessary or contingent in its relation with other things, accord- 
ing as its existence is or is not so united to that of the other 
things that no power can break the connection. It is on the im- 
mediate perception of the necessity and contingency of relations 
that general axiomatic propositions and postulates are based. 
For what is true either contingently or necessarily in one case is 
similarly true in all similar cases. 

The cognition ^' ^^ ^^^ P^^^ *^ ^^^ cognition of non-cxistencc. 
of nou-exist- Concerning this, we say, first, that it is a true cogni- 
^^^^' tion. Non-existence is a subject about which correct 

views are more easily formed than uttered. Thought and lan- 
guage refer principally to the existent, and to non-existence 
merel}' in an occasional and subordinate way. Ordinary forms of 
expression properly appl}^ to existence onty, and when applied to 
non-existence, sometimes present an appearance of contradiction 
and absurdit}'. Nevertheless, both common sense and sound 
philosoph}^ attest that we have as truly a perception of non- 
existence as of existence ; that these things are totally different 
from one another ; and that neither of them can be resolved into 
the other, or even into mere distinction from the other. They 
are objects which we distinguish because tliey are different. 

Here we strain language when we call existence and non- 
existence things or objects ; they are not things in the ordinary 
sense of the word. Yet when we thus speak of them, we do 
not use meaningless or untruthful language. Though not ob- 
jects, thej^ have, in some sense, an objectuality ; and, in par- 
ticular, non-existence, because it is that which existence is not^ 
has also a peculiar character of its own. Let two parallel planes 
be apart ; we say that there is space between them : let them 
meet ; we say that there is no space between them. In this 
latter case the assertion of " no space," or of the non-existence 
of space, is as objectively true as the assertion of space, or of 
the existence of space, in the former case. 

The importance of the thought of non-existence arises from a 
twofold fact. In the first place, this thought can combine with 
the formal conception of ever}^ entity, so as to constitute a neg- 
ative conception, corresponding to the positive conception in 
which existence is the constitutive thought ; and, secondly, all 
belief and conviction pertain to these two modes of conception, 
the positive and the negative. We can believe only in the exist- 
ence or in the non-existence of things. 

Our original cognition of non-existence may, in the truest 
sense, be styled concomitant or consequent. This perception 
attends every mode of change and disappearance which occurs 
within the sphere of intuitive hnoicledge. Let one be conscious 



Chap. XXXVIII.] CONCOMITANT PERCEPTION 809 

of some pleasure, or other ps3^chical experience, which passes 
away and is numbered among the things that are not. He re- 
tains a knowledge of the past existence of this pleasure, but 
with respect to the present he has no such knowledge. On the 
contrar}', he perceives that the experience does not now exist ; 
and, combining the formal conception of the thing perceived 
with the notion of non-existence, he declares it to be a non- 
entit}^ Or let some phj'sical phenomenon — for example, a 
sound — affect the senses : it is perceived as existing ; but 
when it ceases, its non-existence is also perceived. 

Moreover, as the necessity of the existent is often intuition- 
ally known, so also is the impossibilitj^ of the non-existent. Let 
a man transfer a ball from his right hand to his left. He will 
forthwith perceive the impossibility that the ball should be in 
his right hand and in his left at the same time. Such immediate 
cognitions of the impossible may be regarded as the stai*ting- 
points for our inferential perceptions of non-existence. 

We shall conclude our discussion of concomitant intuition 
with one general observation. It is that pei-ceptions of this 
power accompan}^, and in a sense are consequent upon, not 
only those of sense-perception and consciousness, but those also 
of concomitant perception itself; in this w^ay, doubtless, the 
mind builds up and perfects its presentative knowledge of 
things. 

For example, we believe that the different members of the 
body are immediately perceived as in different parts of space, 
and therefore as external to one another. But how much more 
distinct and exact this knowledge becomes when one part of the 
body is made to touch another externall}', as when a hand grasps 
an arm or is made to pass over one's forehead ! Then each part 
is sensible of the other as external to it ; the boundaries of 
each become definitely known. 

In some such way as this, we suppose, the infant gradually 
forms a correct conception of his own body as a material sub- 
stance of a definite size, shape, and consistency. Thus, too, 
the mind becomes prepared for the intelligent cognition of solid 
substances wholly external to the bodj^ ; which cognition is not 
properly intuitive, but inferential!}' consequent upon the knowl- 
edge of our own bodies and their attributes. 



310 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXIX. 



CHAPTER XXXIX. 

COMPOUND AND ACQUIRED PERCEPTION. 

The Tinder- 1. A SATISFACTORY Understanding of acquired per- 
compSf ception will be promoted if we notice, and distinguish 
to tii*Sfor ^^^^ ^^' ^ ^^^'™ ^^ cognition closel}' related to it, and 
acquired, wliich also should be considered for its own sake, 
perception, ^g ^^f^y. ^ ^^at act of the intellect whereby the im- 
mediate perceptions of the same object b}^ two or more different 
senses are combined into one perception, which combination is 
itself an act of intuitive and concomitant cognition. 
^ This compounded perception differs from acquired percep- 
tion, because there is no inference in it ; the knowledge which 
it yields is presentationally given ; but it is related to^acquired 
perception, because it is the source whence the constructions 
of thought and the rules of inference employed in acquired 
perception are originally obtained. 

These remarks may be illustrated from the experience of a 
boy born bhnd, whose eye was couched for cataract by an Eng- 
lish surgeon. After he had somewhat gained the use of his 
sight, he could not call the cat and the dog by their right names, 
or tell which was the cat and which the dog. But, being easily 
able to recognize each by the sense of feeling, he caught the 
cat one da}^, and, shutting his eyes, passed his hands over her, 
so as to ascertain which animal he had been seeing. Then, 
setting her down, he said, " So, puss, I shall know you another 
time." 

In this case two cognitions of the same object were intuitive 
and independent of one another, and their union resulted from 
an identification, also intuitive, of the object of the one with the 
object of the other ; for the cat, as seen and as felt, presented 
relations of place and movement, of causation and simultaneity, 
which could not belong to two objects. The whole perception 
of the cat as an object with certain visible and certain tactual 
marks was an intuitive, though a compound, act of cognition. 

At the same time it is evident that this immediate cognition 
prepared the mind making it for another perception in which a 
mere exercise of sight would enable the boy to supply the tac- 
tual character of the object, or in which the mere handling of 



Chap. XXXIX.] COMPOUND PERCEPTION. 811 

the animal would enable him to ascribe to it a certain visible 
appearance ; and either of these perceptions would be properly 
an acquired one. In like manner, should one perceive quick- 
silver to be a heavy fluid b}' dipping his hand in it, his identifi- 
cation of the quicksilver as seen with the quicksilver as felt 
would be intuitive ; and this would be the basis of an inferential 
perception from sight alone of the heavy fluidit}- of that metal. 
Compound perception being thus a condition of acquired per- 
ception, a consideration of the former is our best introduction 
to a consideration of the latter. 

First, then, we remark that compound perception is the be- 
ginning of any adequate knowledge of things external. Till we 
unite into 07ie whole the partial cognitions of a thing presented 
hy the different senses^ ice can scarcely be said to have any 
comprehension of an externcd object. 

But things internal, which are the objects of consciousness, 
cannot be said to be known by a composition of perceptions, in- 
asmuch as they are perceived by a cognition which is complex, 
but which is not compounded of cognitions from different sources. 

Again, let us note that compound, in separation from acquired, 
perception is adequate for the complete cognition of compara- 
tively few objects, and, like the more simple intuitions of which it 
is composed, is more easily illustrated b}^ examples that are not 
wholly intuitional than by those which exhibit its own workings 
only. The latter are mostl}' of a subtile character, and are not 
matters of ordinary observation. This mode of procedure will not 
be objectionable provided the illustration, in its essential feature, 
shows a composition of intuitions. M3" perception of the apple 
which I hold in my hand may not be purely presentational. 
Nevertheless, the eye immediately^ perceives it as a circular 
colored object, in a certain direction from the centre of vision ; 
the hand recognizes a round smooth object, of a certain weight 
and hardness ; while the nose discerns it as an odoriferous, and 
the tongue as a sapid, substance. Moreover, the peculiar taste 
is experienced only when the object held in the hand touches 
the tongue ; the odor becomes faint and is lost when it is re- 
moved from the nostrils ; and when the hand moves hither and 
thither, the apple correspondingly changes its place and direc- 
tion in the field of vision. These things are perceived intuitively ; 
and in connection with them we learn, by intuition, that the 
object held in the hand, that which we see, that which we feel, 
that which we smell, and that which we taste, are all one and 
the same. But other particulars about this apple — for exam- 
ple, its solidity and its distance from the eye — maj^ not be 
intuitively known. 



312 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXIX. 

The purest exercise of compound perception, and 
nafe know?-'" the most important, takes place when the infantile 
owf bod"^'^ mind first forms definite conceptions of the members 
of his own bod}^, and of the bod}^ as a whole. This, 
doubtless, is a gradual accomplishment, and results principally 
from an attentive exercise of the senses of touch and sight, in 
connection with muscular and organic feelings. The latter pre- 
sent the body and each of its parts as extended, as solid, and as 
possessed of physical power ; they give also an indistinct notion 
of the location of the parts with reference to one another. Then 
touch and sight give definiteness to the rudimental perceptions 
of internal feeling. Of the two, touch may be considered to 
operate first. When one little hand grasps in succession the 
fingers and the thumb, the palm and the wrist, of the other, the 
boundaries of each member and its size become definitel}^ known. 
In the same way the features of the face and other parts of the 
body are touched and bounded. But this determination is 
greatlj' assisted b}^ sight. While touch slowly traverses the 
surface of a limb, sight perceives it all at once ; and the eye 
easil}' combines into one exact conception the explorations of 
the hand. In doing so, the superficial extent of portions of the 
body as ascertained b}^ feeling, being immediately identified 
with the same as seen, any limb furnishes a standard for the 
measurement of the whole bod}'. For this reason the estimation 
of size and distance by sight, even as regards one's own body, 
is onl}' partial]}' intuitive. 

The CO ni ^^^ ^^^^^ Connection let us notice an interesting dis- 

tion of tiie cussion respecting our perception of externalitj-. The 
wo?id no?"''' externality of the different parts of the body, one to 
purely intui- another, is immediately given in connection with mus- 
cular and organic sensations, and becomes more ap- 
parent as these sensations receive attention. This perception is 
greatly strengthened when the hand touches different parts of 
the body. Then two definitely bounded parts of the body are 
each immediatel}^ recognized as sentient and as solid, and as 
external to one another. 

But the question has been raised whether any non-organic 
substance can be immediate]}' known as external to the body, 
save by a deduction consequent upon the perception of the mu- 
tual externality of the parts of the organism itself 

It has been held that without this perception, as an antecedent 
condition, all external objects would be recognized only as affec- 
tions of the mind. This position is an extreme one. 

Hamilton suggests a simpler theory when he says : " The ex- 
istence of an extra-organic world is apprehended ... in the 



Chap. XXXIX.] COMPOUND PERCEPTION. 313 

consciousness that our locomotive energy is resisted, and not 
resisted by aught in our organism itself." In other words, we 
perceive, at the surface of tlie body or of some limb, a power 
pressing upon us, or resisting our pressure, which power we 
know not to be exercised b}^ ourselves or within our body. 

But power is perceived only as possessed and exercised by a 
substance ; therefore, when we say that we perceive an external 
power, this only partially expresses the fact that a substance is 
perceived exercising the poicer. 

It may be allowed that this perception of the external agent 
is inferential, and is based on the knowledge of physical causes 
obtained from our bodily life, and especially from our own mus- 
cular efforts ; in other words, that we infer an external cause of 
motion similar to those we have observed within. But this 
ground of inference may he easily distinguished from a knowl- 
edge of the parts of the body as external to one another. We 
therefore think that the external substance can be perceived with- 
out reference to the mutual externality of the parts of the body. 

At the same time it is clear that this last-mentioned knowl- 
edge greatly contributes to render definite our perception of 
things external, and enables us to determine their character as 
we could not otherwise. When one hand is laid on the other, 
each not only distinguishes the other from itself, but also feels 
the pressure or the resistance of the other. But when an extra- 
organic substance presses either hand, the sensation is in the 
hand alone. This contrast brings into relief the externality of 
the extraneous substance. 

The solidity Morcovcr, Comparing the object as felt with the 
obSlTn^-^ body as felt, we determine its solidit}^, size, and shape 
ferred from bj' the employment of rules obtained in the examina- 
witifour^^ tion of our own hmbs. This process, as regards 
bodies. solidity, or the space-filling property of matter, is well 

described by President Porter. '^ When a blind man," he saj^s, 
" grasps his own arm or wrist, he knows certain muscular sen- 
sations as extended through, and posited in, the space within 
the opposite surfaces that he touches. If his wrist is withdrawn 
from the enclosing grasp, and an extra-corporeal object is in- 
serted in its place, the adjustments of the grasping hand are the 
same as before ; the dim knowledge of the space which these 
adjustments involve is also the same. . . . The wrist is known 
by direct perception as space-filling ; the enclosing hand is a 
measure of the space enclosed. The same enclosing or grasp- 
ing hand measures the surface of another body ; but this body 
yields no muscular percepts involving extension. It occupies, 
however, preciseh' the space which the other filled. It is known, 



314 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXIX. 

therefore, as space-filling, and as filling other space than that of 
the bod}'." 

This quotation sets forth the original perception of external 
solidit}' ; the figure and size, direction and distance, of external 
objects are first perceived in a similar way. Indeed, all man's 
knowledge of the universe originates from cognitions respecting 
his own body. 

.^ 2. In discussing compound perception, we have in- 

perception scnsiblv entered upon the consideration of that mode 
illustrated^ of cognitiou for which this perception is the prepara- 
tor}' basis. Compound and acquired perception are 
so related that the}" are commonly discussed together as forming 
but one process. We have jpreferred to distinguish them, the 
latter being inference from past experience, and the former the 
composition of intuitions, or presentations. 

We have now to remark that not every kind of inference from 
sense-cognitions can be called acquired perception. 

In the first place, no inferred knowledge can claim this title 
unless it result from some impression which the object of it, the 
thing perceived, may make, more or less directly, on our ner- 
vous system, or sensorium. Hearing a clattering noise on the 
street, I may be said to perceive a wagon passing ; but I cannot 
be said to perceive the driver, though I may conclude that there 
is some one driving, — for the wagon, but not the driver, is 
immediately related to the noise. 

In the second place, the exercise of acquired perception ex- 
cludes all formal or doubtful inferences. The action of this 
power being habitual and easy, quick and absolute, it can be 
distinguished from immediate intuition only by philosophical 
scrutiny. Therefore, should one, hearing such a noise as we 
have mentioned, be in doubt whether it were thunder, or can- 
nonading, or the 

" Car rattling o'er the stony street," 

his conviction regarding its origin would not be a perception, 
but only a probable inference. 

These remarks may be illustrated by the story of a traveller. 
When Captain Head was traversing the wild Pampas of South 
America, " his guide one day suddenly stopped him, and, point- 
ing high into air, cried out, ' A lion ! ' Surprised at such an 
exclamation, accompanied by such an act, he turned up his eyes, 
and with difficulty perceived, at an immeasurable height, a flight 
of condors soaring in circles in a particular spot. Beneath this 
spot, far out of sight of himself or guide, lay the carcass of a 
horse, and over that carcass, as the guide well knew, a lion, 



Chap. XXXIX.] ACQUIRED PERCEPTION. 315 

whom the condors were e3'ing with env}' from their airy height. 
The signal of the birds was to him what the sight of the hon 
alone would have been to the traveller, — a full assurance of its 
existence." 

This judgment of the guide was apparently instinctive, and 
was the unconscious application of a rule founded on the past 
experience of himself and others. Yet it was not properly the 
sense-perception of a lion, because it did not arise from any im- 
pression made by that object on bis organs of perception. Much 
less could the articulate process of reasoning in which the judg- 
ment of the guide first originated, and by means of which the 
traveller was enabled to accept the conclusion as correct, be con- 
sidered a sense-perception. The movement of the condors indi- 
cated that some carcass lay far beneath them. As they kept 
circling aloft, it was evident that some beast was yet in posses- 
sion of the prey. This could not be a dog or a jackal ; the con- 
dors would have driven such animals back, or at least contended 
with them for a division of the food. There being onl}- one kind 
of large carnivorous beast in that region, the conclusion followed 
that a lion was dining at a point beneath the condors. In this 
ease neither the instinctive nor the analytic judgment was a 
sense-perception. Both alike were exercises of the rational 
faculty. But, had the traveller heard the roar of the lion, and 
so learnt of his existence, this would have exemplified acquired 
perception. In like manner, should one, smelling a flower in 
the dark, find it to be a rose, or, tasting a fruit, sa}^ that is 
a peach or an apple, or, feeling some goods, know them 
to be silk or cotton, these would be acts of the description 
now considered. 
-D 1 „ v,..^ Man's sphere of external coofnition is amazinHy 

Belongs pre- , -• i , t i /» i « , i . 

eminently to increased b}' the development oi that power of habit- 
^'^^^" ual and instinctive inference which we call acquired 

perception. Without this development our knowledge of the 
material universe would be replaced by a rude ignorance, and our 
control over the forces of Nature b}^ an infantile helplessness. 

Of all our senses, none has so remarkable a usefulness as 
that of sight, which, from the mere sensation of slender boun- 
dary lines and insignificant patches of color on the retina of 
the ej^e, enables us to perceive all objects, near and far, within 
the visible horizon, and even the distant heavenl}' bodies, so 
that the soul of man, employing this marvellous faculty, appears 
to make excursions whithersoever it pleases, and observes things 
remote as if they were near at hand. We believe that philoso- 
phers at the present time are generally agreed in their views 
concerning visual perception ; but it has been through long 



316 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XXXIX. 

discussion, and much experiment and observation, that they have 
reached definite conceptions as to the nature and methods 
of it. 

The exceeding crudity of the views of the first Englisli writers 
may be illustrated by a passage from Locke. He says: "The 
next thing to be considered is, How bodies produce ideas in us ; 
and that is manifestly by impulse^ the only way we can con- 
ceive bodies to operate in. If, then, external objects be not 
united to our minds when they produce ideas therein, and 3'et 
we perceive these original qualities in such of them as fall singl}^ 
under our senses, it is evident that some motion must be thence 
continued by our nerves or animal spirits, by some parts of our 
bodies, to the brain or the seat of sensation, there to produce in 
our minds the particular ideas we have of them. And since the 
extension, figure, number, and motion of bodies of an observ- 
able bigness ma}^ be perceived at a distance b^^ the sight, it is 
evident some singly imperceptible bodies must come from them 
to the eyes, and thereby conve}'^ to the brain some motion, which 
produces these ideas which we have of them in us." 

Here Locke appears to regard the vision of distant objects, 
not as a judgment founded on experience, but as a convic- 
tion immediately produced or excited by the motion of singly 
imperceptible bodies. 

Bishop Berkele}', in his " Theorj^ of Vision," an admirable 
specimen of philosophical analysis, explained our perceptions of 
distance, shape, and size, as deductions from the sensations of 
colors by the eye ; but while doing so, he adopted the extreme 
position that sight, of itself, gives a knowledge of color 
only, and that we do not from this source have any knowl- 
edge of extension in any of its dimensions. Subsequent dis- 
cussions have corrected this error, and have resulted in a more 
tenable doctrine. 

It is now held that the eye is immediately cognizant 
diate"^ogn"i- of Superficial distance, size, place, and figure. This 
tions of the j^^s been determined by the testimony of those who 
have suddenly acquired ej^esight through a surgical 
operation, as was the case with a 3'outh seventeen years of 
age, reported by Dr. Franz, of Leipsic. The experiments tried 
upon him militate against an opinion which Locke approves, — 
namelj^, that " a man born blind and now adult, and taught by 
his touch to distinguish between a cube and a sphere of the 
same metal, and nighly of the same bigness," having gained his 
sight, "could not by means of that sense, before he touched 
them, distinguish and tell which is the globe and which the 
cube." The young man distinguished cube and sphere by com- 



J 



Chap. XXXIX.] ACQUIRED PERCEPTION. 317 

paring their sensible appearances as projected on the plane of 
his vision, though he did not recognize them as solid bodies, 
but simply as two flat figures ; for sight alone can distinguish 
a circle from a square, but not a disc from a globe. 

When the ej'e of the 3'oung man was sufficiently restored, " a 
sheet of paper, on which two strong black lines had been drawn, 
— the one horizontal, the other vertical, — was placed before 
him at the distance of about three feet. He was now allowed to 
open the eye, and after attentive examination he called the 
lines b}^ their right denominations. The outline, in black, of a 
square six inches in diameter, within which a circle had been 
drawn, and within the latter a triangle, was, after careful ex- 
amination, recognized and correctly described b}" him. At the 
distance of three feet, and on a level with the ej'e, a solid cube 
and a sphere, each of four inches diameter, were placed before 
him. . . . After attentively examining these bodies he said he 
saw a quadrangular and a circular figure, and after some con- 
sideration he pronounced the one a square and the other a disc. 
His eye being then closed, the cube was taken awa}', and a disc 
of equal size substituted and placed next to the sphere. On 
again opening his eye he observed no difference in these objects, 
but regarded them both as discs. The solid cube was now 
placed in a somewhat oblique position before the e^'e, and close 
beside it a figure cut out of pasteboard, representing a plane 
outline prospect of the cube when in this position. Both objects 
he took to be something like flat quadrates. 

" A pyramid placed before him with one of its sides towards his 
ej'e he saw as a plane triangle. This object was now turned a 
little, so as to present two of its sides to view, but rather more 
of one side than of the other. After considering and examining 
it for a long time he said that this was a very extraordinary 
figure ; it was neither a triangle nor a quadrangle nor a circle : 
he had no idea of it, and could not describe it. ' In fact,' he 
said, ' I must give it up.' On concluding these experiments I 
asked him to describe the sensations the objects had produced ; 
whereupon he said that immediately^ on opening his eye he had 
discovered a difference in the two objects — the cube and the 
sphere — placed before him, and perceived that they were not 
drawings ; but that he had not been able to form from them the 
idea of a square and a disc until he had perceived a sensation of 
wliat he saw in the points of his fingers, as if he reall}' touched 
the objects. When I gave the three bodies — the sphere, the 
cube, and the p3'ramid — into his hand, he was much surprised 
he had- not recognized them as such by sight, as he was well 
acquainted with mathematical figures by his touch." 



318 MENTAL SCIENCE. . [Chap. XXXIX. 

Our co'rni- From what we have now said, it seems evident that 
tion of solid while a superficial or lateral figure is immediately 
shapes. recognized by sight, the shape of solid bodies is an 
original perception of touch, and becomes perceptible to sight 
onl}' by a habit of inference. The sight cognition of solid fig- 
ures, and of their distance in front, first begins when the mind 
is able to connect certain lines and shadings of color wdth the 
shape and place of near and tangible objects. Having thus 
gained a standard of judgment, the e^'e gradually extends its 
perceptions to objects more remote. 

The perception of solid shape is well illustrated by Locke. 
Having remarked that "the ideas we receive b}* sensation are 
often, in grown people, altered by the judgment without our tak- 
ing notice of it," he continues : " When we set before our eyes a 
round globe of any uniform color, — e, g., gold, alabaster, or jet, 
— it is certain that the idea thereby imprinted in our mind is of 
a flat circle variousl}^ shadowed, with several degrees of light and 
brightness coming to our eyes. But we having by use been ac- 
customed to perceive what kind of appearance convex bodies are 
wont to make in us, what alterations are made in the reflections 
of light by the diflference of the sensible figures of bodies, the 
judgment presently, by an habitual custom, alters the appear- 
ances into their causes, so that, from that which is truh' variety 
of shadow or color, collecting the figure, it makes it pass for a 
mark of figure, and frames to itself the perception of a convex 
figure and a uniform color, when the idea we receive from thence 
is onl}' a plane variously colored, as is evident in painting." 
Those who have long been accustomed to perceive solid bodies 
by sight can scarcely believe that their ability to do this is 
wholly acquired ; yet nothing seems more abundanth^ proved. 

What Ruskin Siiys is literall}' true : " The perception of solid 
form is entirely a matter of experience. We see nothing but^a^ 
colors ; and it is onl}^ 1)3^ a series of experiments that we find 
out that a stain of black or graj^ indicates the dark side of a 
solid substance, or that a faint hue indicates that the object in 
which it appears is far awa}-. The whole technical power of 
painting depends on our recovery of what may be called the 
innocence of the eye ; that is to sa}', of a sort of childish per- 
ception of these flat stains of color merely as such, without con- 
sciousness of what they signify, as a blind man would see them 
if suddenly gifted with sight." 



Chap. XL.] THE FALLACIES OF SENSE. 319 

CHAPTER XL. 

THE FALLACIES OF SENSE. 

1. Some claim that the eye can determine lines of direc- 
tion of direc- ti on radiating from itself, without any extraneous aid. 
tion and dis- This is doubtful; but, unquestionably, the visual percep- 
tance. ^-^^^ ^^ objects, as in given directions and as at a distance, 

is a very easy and eai-ly attainment. This cognition must take place 
at once, when it is found that the hand of the observer can come be- 
tween his eye and the object seen. Some observations of Trinchinetti, 
an Italian surgeon, bear on this point. " He operated at the same 
time on two patients, brother and sister, aged eleven and ten years, 
respectively. The same day, having caused the boy to examine an 
orange, he placed it about one metre from him, and bade him try to 
take it. The boy brought his hand close to his eye (quasi a contatto del 
suo occhio), and, closing his fist, found it empty, to his great surprise. 
He then tried again a few inches from his eye, and at last, in this ten- 
tative way, succeeded in taking the orange. When the same experi- 
ment was tried with the girl, she also at first attempted to grasp the 
orange with her hand very near the eye (colla mano assai vicina aW 
occhio) ; then, perceiving her error, stretched out her forefinger, and 
pushed it in a straight line slowly till she reached the object. " Trin- 
chinetti " regarded these observations as indicating a belief that visi- 
ble objects were in actual contact with the eye." So, also, the boy 
born blind, on whom Cheselden operated, said that objects at first 
seemed " to touch his eyes, as what he felt did his skin." 
A difficulty ■^^'- Adam Smith, in his "Essay on the Senses," notices 
considered, an objection to the doctrine now taught. This objection 
A. Smith. ig based on the observation of the lower animals, many of 
which, from the very day of their birth, possess a good apprehension 
of distance and direction. "The hen," he says, "never feeds her 
young by dropping the food into their bills, as the linnet and the 
thrush feed theirs. Almost as soon as her chickens are hatched she 
does not feed them, but carries them to the field to feed, where they 
walk about at their ease, it would seem, and appear to have the most 
distinct perception of all the tangible objects which surround them. 
We may often see them, accordingly, by the straightest road, run to and 
pick up any little grains which she shows them, even at the distance 
of several yards ; and they no sooner come into the light than they 
seem to understand this language of vision as well as they ever do 
afterwards. The young of the partridge and the grouse seem to have, 
at the same early period, the most distinct perceptions of the same 
kind. The young partridge, almost as soon as it comes from the shell, 
runs about among long grass and corn, the young grouse among long 
heath ; and would both most essentially hurt themselves if they had 
not the most acute as well as distinct perception of the tangible ob- 
jects which not only surround them, but press upon them on all sides. 



320 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XL. 

This is the case, too, with the young of the goose, of the duck, and, 
so far as I have been able to observe, with the greater part of those 
birds which make their nests upon the ground." 

Dr. Smith meets the difficulty presented by such facts, by claiming 
that instinct is given to the lower animals on account of the necessity 
of their condition ; that man, being cared for in helpless infancy by 
his mother or nurse, has no need of any such faculty; and that, there- 
fore, human beings are allowed to await the required development of 
their powers. But he also thinks it likely that infants have an in- 
stinctive perception of size and distance, though to a very limited de- 
gree, "Children," he says, "appear at so very early a period to know 
the distance, the shape, and the magnitude of the dift'erent tangible 
objects which are presented, that I am disposed to believe that even they 
may have some instinctive perception of this kind, though possibly iu 
a much weaker degree than the greater part of other animals." 

For ourselves, we admit the existence of instinct, — that is, of a 
tendency and power, given to animals by the Creator, to seek some 
rational or necessary end without having that end in view; doubtless 
some immediate pleasure is attached to instinctive activity, and leads 
to its performance; but we are not inclined to ascribe to instinct every- 
thing that animals may do. Moreover, in the present case, we think 
it not incredible that the intelligence of such actions as those adduced 
may have originated in a very short experience. We have seen chickens 
only one day old, which a little girl, our Bessie, had taken from the 
mother and fed, refuse to follow the mother, while they did follow 
Bessie about the yard. They no sooner had left the shell than they 
exhibited this power of forming a habit of judgment respecting the 
source of care and food. 

We assume that cognitions of space and position arise in connection 
with muscular, organic, and tactual sensations, and that a power of 
thinking involving these cognitions is developed before any exercise of 
sight takes place. Probably, when the eyes are first opened, objects are 
seen as on a surface close to the organ; but when the young animal 
moves its head, and touches near objects with its mouth or beak, then 
things are discovered not to be contiguous to the eye, but to occupy 
stationary positions in space. The lateral and vertical movements of 
the head show^ the object to be stationary, and the forward motion 
shows that some space must be traversed before contact. At the same 
time, also, the direction of objects is determined; they are instantly 
located on lines connecting them with the centre of vision. Noth- 
ing further is now requisite save some serviceable measure of short 
distances ; and should we hazard the conjecture that objects wdthin 
reach of the young animal possess a certain degree of visible distinct- 
ness, or cause a certain convergence of the optic axes, or in some other 
way peculiarly affect the organ of vision, this would present a rule of 
judgment which could be learned and applied at once. The deter- 
mination of greater distances might involve a further process and 
somewhat more experience. 

It is also to be remembered that the bodies of the lower animals at 
birth possess a greater development than that which is exhibited by the 
new-born infant, and are more capable of that automatic action which, 



Chap. XL.] THE FALLACIES OF SENSE. 821 

though purely nervous and physical, is complementary and coadjutant 
to the intentional gaidance of volition. The co-ordination of the 
motion of limbs of birds and beasts in walking, running, and flying- 
is very much automatic; and so, also, are some tendencies to act under 
the stimulus of any distinct impression made on the organs of sense. 
The foregoing considerations do not take away the necessity for in- 
stinct, but justify a greater limitation than is usually given to the 
sphere in which that power is exercised. But whether the sight- 
perceptions of animals involve instinct or not, there is little need 
of accounting for human vision otherwise than as the acquisition 
of experience. 

Perceptions . ^^® h?ive now sufficiently considered the visual percep- 
of size and tion of the direction of objects and of their solid shape; 
distance. \^^j^ something must be added respecting our estimations 
of size and distance. As aheady stated, our original or primordial 
perceptions of these things arise from internal sensations acting in 
connection with the sense of touch. Having in this way ascertained 
the length of one's foot or arm, and, in general, the size of our differ- 
ent bodily members, we use these determinations as standards for the 
measurement of other things. 

The original " foot " of length was doubtless taken from the foot 
of some man of authority, just as the standard yard-stick kept in the 
Tower of London is said to have measured the length of the right arm 
of a king of England. A cubit, as the term indicates, was originally 
the length of the fore-arm from the point of the elbow to the extremity 
of the fingers. After such standards of length had been determined, 
others were easily obtained which are based on the movement of 
our limbs, as known through the muscular sense. Every full step of 
a medium-sized man traverses a distance of three feet or thereabouts. 
Hence the original mile was mille passuum; hence, too, the passage of 
time, as connected with the regular continuance of bodily motions, is 
employed to indicate distance. The traveller in Europe is often told 
that one place is a given number of hours distant from another, each 
hour being equivalent to a lejigue of three miles, — that is, to the 
length of road ordinarily passed over by a pedestrian in an hour. 

The extent to which such muscular measures of space can be em- 
ployed may be illustrated by the case of a Mr, John Metcalf, otherwise 
called "Blind Jack," mentioned in the memoirs of the Manchester 
Philosophical Society. "He became blind at an early period, but 
notwithstanding followed the profession of a wagoner, and occasion- 
ally of a guide in intricate roads during the night, or when the tracks 
were covered with snow. At length he became a projector and sur- 
veyor of highways in difficult and mountainous districts, — an employ- 
ment for which one would naturally suppose a blind man to be but 
indifferently qualified. But he was found to answer all the expecta- 
tions of his employers; and most of the roads over the peak in Derby- 
shire, in England, wei'e altered by his directions. Says the person 
who gives this account of Blind Jack : ' I have several times met this 
man, with the assistance of a long staff, traversing the roads, ascending 
precipices, exploring valleys, and investigating their several extents, 
foKms, and situations, so as to answer his designs in the best manner."* 

21 



822 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XL. 

In order to communicate the faculty of measuring magnitudes and dis- 
tances from the locomotive, or muscular, sense to the eye, there is need only 
that a course traversed hy the feet should he submitted to the sight. Then 
another course of similar length would affect one's sight in a similar 
manner. But the more frequently such comparisons are made and 
tested, the more thoroughly is the habit of judgment formed. Thus 
our acquired perception of magnitude and distance results directly 
from a comparison of the sensations of sight with those by which 
these attributes are more directly measured. It does not involve any 
knowledge of the nature of the eye or of the operations of this organ in 
receiving, transmitting, directing, and concentrating rays of light. 

Nevertheless, scientific investigations have shown how 
au'uflgment.' *h® ^1^ ^^ affected by variations in magnitude and dis- 
' tance; and in so doing, they have revealed the causes of 
those ocular sensations which the mind interprets. 

First of all, it is ascertained that when an object is near at hand, and 
in proportion to its nearness, the optic axes — that is, the lines passing 
through the pupil and the centre of each eye — are made to converge, so 
as to admit light from the object, in the most perfect way, upon the 
retina. This convergence is effected by muscles connected with the 
eye, whose action is indicated by a sensation. Hence one can more 
quickly and exactly seize a pin or a pea suspended in the air at a little 
distance, when both of his eyes are open, than he can when one eye is 
shut. The visual size of objects close at hand is of course at first 
immediately interpreted by its identification with that of objects felt. 

Again, it is known that, as a rule, nearer objects make a more distinct 
impression on the retina than those which ore remote. Hence one looking 
from some distance across a ravine or river can easily distinguish 
the foliage on the side next to him from that which is visible on the 
other. Hence, too, in such countries as Colorado, where the air is 
remarkably clear, mountains many miles distant appear to the new- 
comer only a short way off, while those who have been accustomed to 
such a transparent atmosphere find themselves adding unduly to the 
space-separations of a more hazy region. 

In the next place, the intervention of various objects assists our judg- 
ments of distance, ichile the presence of adjoining objects aids our estimate 
of size. The length of a procession is better perceived than the dis- 
tance of a single object, — we make allowance for all the intervening 
spaces that are occupied or marked; and the size of an elephant at a 
distance, or even near by, is better appreciated if it can be immedi- 
ately compared with that of a man or a horse. The sun and moon and 
other heavenly bodies seem to us both near and small, because the eye 
can neither compare them with any known magnitudes, nor measure 
the distance between them and our planet. They are granted only 
such size and distance as would ordinarily be indicated by their 
appearance. 

But the most important law governing our perceptions of distance and 
magnitude is founded on the fact that rays of light travel in right lines 
from the object to the eye. This being the case, the apparent size of 
any object — that is, the space which it occupies in the field of vision 
— varies inversely as the square of the distance from the eye. This 



Chap. XL.] THE FALLACIES OF SENSE. 323 

law enables the mind to estimate distance when magnitude is known, 
and magnitude when distance is known. A man standing at the dis- 
tance of two rods from the eye occupies one half the length, and one 
fourth the superficial extent, in the field of vision, that the same man 
occupies at the distance of only one rod. If the mind knows the visual 
size of an object at the distance of one rod, and perceives the same 
object as having only one fourth that size, it locates the object at the 
distance of two rods. On the other hand, if it knows some object of 
similar appearance to be only one rod away, while its visual size is no 
larger than that presented by the known object at two rods, the object 
now seen, though similar to that previously observed, is concluded to 
be only one fourth as large. Of course no formal calculations of size 
and distance take place in the use of the foregoing rules ; yet it is 
wonderful with what accuracy and ease our ordinary judgments of 
sight are made. 

™^ - ,. . 2. We must not conclude the discussion now in hand 
of sense. without remarking that the so-called " fallacies of sense," 
They are which really are mistaken inferences from the presenta- 
mferential. ^^q^x^ of sense, take place only in connection with acquired 
perception. The immediate and original cognitions of the mind, 
whether of sense or consciousness or concomitant perception, are 
reliable; they present realities ; in them no mistake is possible. But 
errors may occur in the inferences we make from them. 

Moreover, our liability to error first arises in connection with the 
exercise of that very power of judgment whereby we are enabled to 
infer what is true. It does not originate in the associative tendency 
of thought. This merely attaches conceptions to one another, with- 
out any necessary reference to their logical relations. He who says 
that truth or falsehood, or our belief in either, is the result of associa- 
tion, misses the mark sadly. Mistakes become possible for us when, by 
a power of judgment, we begin to unite things in the relation of ante- 
cedent and consequent. 

This relation, in some cases, is perceived to exist by an absolute 
necessity, and then rules are formed which admit of no exceptions; in 
other cases it is not perceived to be absolute, but only supposed or 
accepted with greater or less probability and confidence; and the rules 
arising in such cases may admit of exception. By far the greater part 
of human judgments are formed in this way; for absolute or perfect 
truth is sometimes unattainable by the mind, and sometimes, though 
attainable, is beyond the practical aims and necessities which shape 
our ordinary modes of thought and determine the degree of their de- 
velopment. This power of forming imperfect rules is a most necessary 
and useful attribute ; for it yields a less perfect apprehension when 
absolute knowledge may be undesired or unattainable. But it indi- 
cates a limitation in the cognitive faculties of the being using it, and 
it results in a liability to error. Mistakes from this source are spe- 
cially likely to occur whenever any imperfect rule of judgment is ap- 
plied in circumstances differing from those of its first formation and 
original use. 

We allow, also, that association and habit, which contribute greatly 
to the ease and rapidity with which our judgments are formed, increase 



324 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XL. 

that liability to error which we have just mentioned. The force of 
habit hurries the mind into the adoption of conclusions, as it were 
instinctively, which the circumstances do not warrant. In this way 
we sometimes find ourselves making judgments which we know to be 
wrong, and which we immediately correct. 

These remarks may be illustrated from every mode of acquired per- 
ception. Should one cross his fingers, — say the second and third fin- 
gers, — and then move the end of a pencil back and forth between 
their extremities, he will find some effort necessary to disabuse his 
mind of the feeling that two pencils are employed in the titiilation. 
The reason is that the sensations now caused by one instrument re- 
quire the use of two when the fingers are in their ordinary positions. 
This instance suggests a fact well known to surgeons, and cited in 
Miiller's " Physiology: " " When, in the restoration of a nose, a flap 
of skin is turned down from the forehead, and made to unite with the 
stump of the nose, the new nose thus formed has, as long as the isth- 
mus of skin by which it maintains its original connections remains 
undivided, the same sensations as if it v/ere still on the forehead; in 
other words, when the nose is touched, the patient feels the impression 
on the forehead." Here evidently the object felt is referred to the 
accustomed place of the sensation. 

In the same way we account for the phenomenon that the sensations 
of an amputated limb are referred to the lost extremities. Miiller gives 
the following instances: " A student named Schmidts, from Aix, had 
his arm amputated above the elbow thirteen years ago ; he has never 
ceased to have sensations as if in his fingers. I applied pressure to the 
nerves in the stump; and M. Schmidts immediately felt the whole 
arm, even the fingers, as if asleep. ... A toll-keeper in the neighbor- 
hood of Halle, whose right arm had been shattered by a cannon ball 
in battle, above the elbow, twenty j^ears ago, and afterwards ampu- 
tated, has still, in 1833, at the time of changes in the weather, distinct 
rheumatic pains, which seem to him to exist in the whole arm; and 
though removed long ago, the lost part is at those times felt as if 
sensible to the draughts of air." 

The explanation of these and similar experiences by President Por- 
ter seems sufficient. " A man," he says, " who has no foot, will feel 
pain in the foot. Why? Because he experiences precisely the same 
sensations which he suffered when he had the foot, and knew it was 
the seat of pain. But if he had never had a foot, he would never have 
assigned pain to it; for he would never have had the means, by eye or 
hand, or muscular sensations, of connecting these sensations with it." 
President McCosh, on the contrary, inclines to believe that the wrong 
judgment, if it resulted from past experience, would more easily give 
way to the teachings of a subsequent experience, and concedes that the 
physiological fact reported by Professor Valentin, that "individuals 
who are the subjects of congenital imperfection » or absence of the 
extremities, have, nevertheless, the internal sensations of such limbs 
in their perfect state," necessitates the admission of an instinctive or 
immediate judgment. 

We rather think that the class of phenomena in question may be 
accounted for by an acquired perception strengthened by a strong 



Chap. XL.] ' THE FALLACIES OF SENSE. 325 

association. We see no necessity to suppose an original or immediate 
judgment, though doubtless there may be an inherited tendency in our 
nature which, in the cases referred to, intensifies the operation of the 
associative power. With respect to the testimony of persons with am- 
putated limbs, it is to be remarked, first, that it is not uniform, some 
saying that their sensations do not long remain fallacious, W'hile others 
assert that they do; secondly, this testimony does not mention muscular 
sensations, in connection with which our perceptions of place are toler- 
ably determinate, but vital and organic sensations, regarding which 
our original localizing judgments are indefinite; therefore, thirdly, we 
may allow the feelings of the shortened limb to be similar to those of 
the same member while perfect, holding at the same time that such 
feelings do not of themselves definitely mark position ; and, fourthly, 
the positive associations of early life may be supposed to have in them 
a power of continuance compared with which that of any subsequent 
negative experience must be very feeble. 

The congenital cases reported by Dr. Valentin may be satisfactorily 
explained. Let us take the following: " A girl aged nineteen years, 
in whom the metacarpal bones of the left hand were very short, and 
all the bones of the phalanges absent, — a row of imperfectly organ- 
ized wart-like projections representing the fingers, — assured M. Val- 
entin that she had constantly the internal sensation of a palm of the 
hand and five fingers on the left side as perfectly as on the right. 
When a ligature w^as placed around the stump, she had the sensation 
of ' formication ' in the hand and fingers, and pressure on the ulnar 
nerve gave rise to the ordinary feeling of the third, fourth, and 
fifth fingers being asleep, although these fingers did not exist. The 
examination of three other cases gave the same results." 

Here it will be noticed that the girl speaks of the " internal " sensa- 
tions in her left hand as being, notwithstanding her deformity, similar 
to those in her right. We can see nothing very extraordinary in this 
if it be allowed that each hand was furnished with a similar set of 
nerves similarly distributed; nor is it unnatural to suppose that con- 
ceptions associated with sensations in the stronger hand, and logically 
connected with tliem, should be recalled by similar sensations in the 
other and be trie means of momentary error. But a person horn desti- 
tute of both hands could not, we think, have the interpretations of 
feeling which properly attach themselves to those members. 

In respect to the errors of vision and of the external senses generally, 
there is — or, at least, need be — no serious dispute. No philosopher 
claims that the oar bent in the water, or the landscape made yellow by 
tlie jaundiced eye, or the ringing in one's ears produced by large doses 
of quinine, or any of the extraordinary sensations of a diseased organ, 
are proofs that our senses are deceitful. Our immediate cognitions are 
always reliable, even when our inferences from them may be wrong. 
The errors of Moreover, our acquired perceptions, like other inferences, 
sense easily admit of critical analysis, and can for the most part be 
corrected. tested by their consistency with each other, and by their 
logical connection and agreement with accompanying perceptions that 
are more immediate. In this way, whenever any doubt arises, our 
perception can be confirmed or modified or rejected after a sufficient 



326 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLI. 

investigation. Even acquired perception, therefore, is most reliable, and 
is regarded by all men as a proper and satisfactory source of knowledge. 

The ease with which the mind detects and corrects errors in its 
inferential cognitions is evident from the fact that we are seldom really 
deceived by such errors, unless it be for a short time, but only amused, 
and interested to know their cause. Illustrations of this statement 
occur in the daily experience of us all; the following instances are 
remarkable only because recorded by scientific men. 

"I remember once," says Dr. Abercrombie, "having occasion to 
pass along Ludgate Hill, when the great door of 8t. Paul's was open 
and several persons were standing in it. They appeared to be very 
little children, but, on coming up to them, were found to be full-grown 
persons. In the mental process which here took place, the door had 
been assumed as a known magnitude, and the other objects judged 
of by it. Had I attended to the door being much larger than any door 
that one is in the habit of seeing, the mind would have made allow- 
ance for the apparent size of the persons ; on the other hand, had these 
been known to be full-grown persons, a judgment would have been 
formed of the size of the door," 

A writer in the " Edinburgh Encyclopsedia " mentions a more com- 
plicated case of optical illusion than the foregoing: " In examining a 
dioramic representation of the inside of Rochester Cathedral, which 
produced the finest effect from the entire exclusion of all extraneous 
light and of all objects except those on the picture itself, he was struck 
with an appearance of distortion in the perspective, which he ascribed 
to the canvas not hanging vertically. Upon mentioning this to the 
gentleman who exhibited the picture, he offered to walk in front of it 
and strike its surface with the palm of his hand, to show that the 
canvas was freely suspended. Upon doing this, a very remarkable 
deception, or illusion rather, took place. As his hand passed along, 
it gradually became larger and larger till it reached the middle, 
when it became enormonsl}'' large. It then diminished till it reached 
the other end of the canvas." Here the eye was deceived, first, as to 
the distance of the painted object, then as to the place of the hand 
which appeared to touch the object, and finally as to the size of the 
hand. In this case, as in the other, the observer was not long 
deceived, but was able immediately to correct his false conclusions. 



CHAPTER XLI. 

MEMORY. 

1. The reproductive, or representative, phase of mental ac- 
tivity is characterized by the predominant exercise of the repro- 
ductive power. It comprises those operations in which, for 
the purposes of contemplation, the mind recalls and elaborates 



Chap. XLL] MEMORY. 327 

thought or knowledge already acquired. This phase of activity 
exhibits itself in two principal forms, — that is, as memory^ and 
as phantasy., or imagination. Hence we speak of the memory- 
and the phantasy as the reproductive faculties. The first of these 
is distinguished b}" the knowledge and belief with which its rep- 
resentations are attended ; the other by a kind of synthetic 
judgment whereby constructions of thought are formed, some- 
times with little design or effort, at other times with great skill 
and with well-considered aims. 

The phenomena presented hy memory are more 
infmediate^" evidently reproductive of the past than those of 
J^n^owiedge of phantasy; for this reason we shall attend first to 
the former power. Sir William Hamilton finds fault 
with Dr. Reid for saying, " It is by memory that we have an 
im^mediate knowledge of the past."" Sir William sa3's : ''An 
immediate knowledge of the past is a contradiction. For we 
can only know a thing immediately' if we know it in itself, or 
as existing ; but what is past cannot be known in itself, for 
it is non-existent." Certainly, if immediate knowledge impl}^ 
that the thing known exists at the time of the knowledge, and is 
immediately present to the percipient soul, remembrance is not 
immediate knowledge. But Reid never meant to teach any- 
thing so absurd as this. By immediate knowledge he signifies 
that which is not ratiocinative, or in any way inferential. He 
meant to teach that a thing distinctlj- remembered is known 
simply because it is remembered — or rather, simpl}" in being 
remembered — and by reason of the constitution of the mind. 

We accept this doctrine as correct. We believe that memory, 
in its essential work, simpl}- reproduces past perceptions, — or 
rather, the knowledge gained in such perceptions, — this repro- 
duction being accompanied hy the attribution of new temporal 
relations to the fact recalled. If this be so, then memory, in an 
important sense, is an immediate knowledge of the past. As 
in original sense-perception we do not first perceive an idea of 
the object, and then in some way become convinced that this 
idea represents a realit}', but, on the contrary, immediately per- 
ceive the object itself as in relation to our sentient spii-it, so 
memory immediatel}' and directly" reproduces from former knowl- 
edge both the conception and the conviction which are included 
in that knowledge. There is no process, but a simple reproduc- 
tion of the original conception and conviction, together with a 
perception of the lapse of time. 

According to Hamilton's doctrine of memory, the conception 
of a past fact is not immediately accompanied with conviction, 
but may be immediately identified with a past cognition, and 



328 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLI. 

then, because our cognitive conception agreed with fact, we 
conckide that our recollective conception agrees also with the 
same fact. We reason thus : My present thought corresponds 
exacth' with my previous thought ; but my previous thought 
was cognitive, and corresponded with fact, and was true : there- 
fore my present thought is true. 

This view can scarce!}' be called absurd. It is especially plau- 
sible as an account of our remembrance of things external. It 
assumes two ultimate and inexplicable data : first, the convic- 
tion that a present corresponds with a past thought; and, sec- 
ondly, the conviction that the past thought was cognitive, this 
latter datum being nothing else than the immediate remembrance 
of the past cognition. From these assumptions the past exist- 
ence of the thing thought of is deduced. 

But a little reflection discovers the weakness of this theorj^ 

In the first place, it is self-destructive in assuming that we can 
immediately reccdl the knoicledge^ gained hy consciousness^ of 
past conceptions and convictions. If the knowledge of con- 
sciousness may be recalled and relied upon, why mn.j we not do 
the same with the knowledge gained hy sense-perception, — in 
short, with every kind of immediate knowledge? Reid's teach- 
ing makes no greater assumption than the theory now considered, 
and Has the advantage of superior simplicit}', which is a great 
advantage in philosophj'. 

In the next place, this theory is j'et more self-destructive in 
assuming the raeynory of cognitions as such. Because the 
memory or knowledge of a past cognition, as the basis of a new 
knowledge of fact, involves that the fact is cdready knovan.^ and 
need not be learned in this way. We cannot know that we 
knew an}' particular thing without therein alread}' knowing that 
thing. 

Finall}', we say that our daily consciousness does not favor 
this doctrine, but that of immediate memory. Never, in any 
perfect remembrance, do we find ourselves first referring to our 
past cognition, and then making inferences from it ; on the con- 
trary, we immediatel}' reproduce our cognitions, whether ob- 
jective or subjective, and therein immediately remember the 
objects of these cognitions. 

The memor ^"^ while the remembrance of one's self as cogni- 
of a fact ill- tivc is not the basis of belief in things formerly per- 
remeiubiarice^^^i'^'^^' ^ reference to one's self as previousl}' percip- 
ofitscogni- ieut enters into, and helps to constitute, every act of 
remembrance. This, at least, is true of memory as 
commonl}" conceived of. When a man says that he remembers 
something, we understand that he himself has perceived that 



Chap. XLL] MEMORY. 329 

which he remembers. If he tells what he has heard from some 
one else, he remembers hearing it, but not the thing itself. If 
he tells that of which he is sure, 3'et is not now certain whether 
he originally perceived it himself, or learned it from others, or 
inferred it from some sign, we do not call his certainty or knowl- 
edge remembrance ; it is merely a recalled knowledge. 

This re-knowing is of the same essential nature with memor}', 
and might be included under memory, provided the term were 
used in a wide philosophical sense. But that might lead to con- 
fusion. Besides, however confident one might himself be of 
some fact learned, he knows not how, his testimon}^ regarding 
it could not avail with others so much as if he knew whence he 
had obtained his knowledge. Nay, perhaps he himself could 
not be absolutely sure of it. For this reason we commonly 
wish to know concerning any reproduced conviction whether 
it first originated from inference or from testimony or from 
observation ; in the latter case only, we call it memory. 

Almost every other circumstance connected with a past event 
or fact, except that it was personallj' observed, ma}^ be forgotten, 
while the character of memory remains. One 'may be confident 
that he has heard another making a certain declaration, but may 
be entirely unable to say in what place or at what time or in 
what companj' ; he ma3^ even forget how he himself was affected 
b}^ the declaration ; but he must recollect that he himself heard 
it, or there is no remembrance. 

. In memor}^ the two primary powers of mind — 

not clearness thought and belief — are always exercised together; 
tforT"^^^" ^"^ nothing is more necessary to a right understand- 
ing of this faculty than that we should hear in inind 
the distinction betiveen these powers. The want of a right ap- 
prehension of this distinction has rendered possible two related 
forms of error: first, that which regards memor}^ as merely a 
clear and vivid exercise of reproductive thought; and, secondlj^ 
that which explains memory as an energetic kind of thought, 
resulting from an unimpaired or reinforced condition of the sug- 
gestive power. 

The first of these views is involved in Mr. Locke's account of 
memory, though rather from his carelessness and want of preci- 
sion than from any positive adoption of the error. Failing to 
distinguish between ideas and cognitions, Locke makes percep- 
tion the faculty by which ideas are first receiA'ed, and memory 
the faculty by which they are retained and revived. The same 
doctrine is taught by those who describe remembrance as a dis- 
tinct and life-like conception of something past. Vividness of 
conception should not be confounded with confidence of convic- 



330 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLI. 

tion. The former ma}' often accompany the latter, and for this 
reason ma}^ be mentioned as suggestive of it. But the two are 
not inseparable, and even when conjoined, ma}' be distinguished. 
Our conception of a well-told tale and our belief in its truth are 
different things. Were it not so, there would be no difference 
between distinct memor}- and distinct imagination. 
Memory is The second error, mentioned above, is held by those 
n^t^^tr^ngiy philosophers who account for all the beliefs and con- 
fhought^or victions of the mind on the principle of the association 
feeiiug. Qf ideas. According to them, we have, first, sensa- 

tions ; then reproduced sensations, or ideas, of different kinds ; 
then association of ideas : that is all. This doctrine confounds 
sensation with thought, and thought with knowledge, and makes 
all knowledge renewed and refined sensations. It is shallow and 
inadequate to the highest degree. It signall}- fails in attempt- 
ing to account for memory. Admitting all its assumptions, it is 
impossible to see how an}- conception of things as existing in 
past time — much more, how any conviction as to their past 
realitj' — is nothing more than a strongly- reproduced feehng. 

A sensation of pain or uneasiness to-daj', though it be rein- 
forced b}' some influence from the pain of 3'esterday, has in it no 
reference to ^'esterda}', much less anj' conviction that such refer- 
ence is correct. These things are an addition to the present ex- 
perience^ however that may have been produced or compounded. 
In short, associationalism cannot explain the simplest exercise of 
remembrance. This fact, in the course of discussion, became so 
evident to Mr. J. S. Mill that he candidh' admitted memory to 
be an ultimate ground of belief. In opposition to his own teach- 
ings, he said : " Our belief in the veracitj' of memor}' is evidently 
ultimate ; no reason can be given for it which does not presup- 
pose the belief, and assume it to be well grounded." 
Memory ad- Memory, in its twofold character as the reproduc- 
mits of (ie- tion of both thought and belief, admits of excellence 
grees. y. ^^^ of imperfection. An absolute recollection of the 
past, in which all things submitted to one's observation should 
be recalled in all their details and with the full assurance of 
sight, could belong only to an ideal memory. A less complete 
exercise of the faculty' passes for perfection with human beings. 
In general, when we speak of a perfect remembrance, we mean 
one which retains all those particulars of some scene or transac- 
tion which may have been specially noticed, and which includes 
a full assurance of belief respecting them ; and a memorj^ is im- 
perfect so far as it differs from such a standard, in either respect. 

While these two modes of excellence often accompany each 
other, thej' are also often separated. One witness maj' dimly 



Chap. XLI.] MEMORY. 331 

recall the circumstances of a transaction which he remembers 
with absolute assurance ; and another, of livelier imagination, 
may have distinct conceptions of particulars, while he would 
not like to swear that everj^thing happened just according to his 
description. 

Differences of ability are noticeable also in the same man at 
different times. The causes controlling these differences are, in 
the main, the same as those which govern the acquisition and 
the revival of our ideas. Hence, although every recalled belief, 
like every recalled idea, arises in the mind directlj^ from the 
action of a reproductive power, we often can explain how one 
remembrance has arisen rather than another, and how one re- 
membrance is more or less vivid, or confident, than another. 
"VYhat has been interesting, what has been observed carefully, 
what has occurred recentl}', what has been witnessed alone and 
without distraction and while one is in good health and vigor, 
will be recalled with special ease and confidence. 

2. Hitherto we have insisted upon the negative rela- 
of memory to tiou of judgment to mcmory. and have taught that, in 
^mWieift remembering a thing, we believe it, with greater or 
1. An imper- less assurancc, simply because we remember it. It 
may'be'con- i^' however, true that the memory of human beings 
tirme<i or (lis- is not excrciscd apart from their reason or judgment, 
but continually in conjunction with the latter faculty ; 
and the relations arising from this fact are ver}^ important. 

Judgment ma}^ confirm or disannul remembrances ; it may 
scrutinize and test the action of memory ; it may intermingle 
and combine its own inferences with remembered facts ; and 
it may control and direct the mind in the effort to remember 
things forgotten. A great influence is exerted in these several 
ways. 

First, judgment confirms or disannuls remembrances. This 
happens onl}- when the alleged fact is not remembered perfectly. 
In that case, to terminate doubt, the fact supposed to be remem- 
bered ma}^ be regarded in its external relations, and we may 
find good reason to believe that such an event must or must 
not have taken place. For instance, we may find that certain 
necessary consequences of it are or are not visible. If one 
during the night-time had seen a great fire at a short distance, 
and on the next morning were not sure that he had not been 
dreaming, his memory would be confirmed if he should find the 
blackened and smoking remains of some large building in the 
neighborhood to which his recollection pointed. If no such 
remains could be found, he would conclude that he had been 
only dreaming. 



332 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLI. 

2. Reason ^^ the next place, judgment may scrutinize the 

mayscruti- action of memoiy and the degree of its rehability. 
the action of Tlils is done whenever a remembrance is intentionally 
memory. ^^^ deliberately repeated, and so subjected to the 
notice of a reflective and attentive consciousness. Under such 
conditions we may become sure that our conviction really arises 
from memory, and is not a delusion of fear or hope or passion or 
interest ; and we can determine with what amount of confidence 
we reall}^ remember a thing, whether with full assurance or with 
doubt and hesitation. Then, also, we may compare our recollec- 
tion with other recollections and beliefs, and may inquire whether 
there be an}^ likelihood of our having erroneously combined the 
elements of our acquired knowledge. 

Let one remember a portrait on the wall of a certain drawing- 
room, and have the doubtful impression that the picture which 
he saw was a Madonna. He can now ask whether his idea of 
the Madonna may not have been obtained from some other pic- 
ture that he has seen elsewhere, and wronglj^ substituted in his 
present recollection for that of Beatrice, or some other lad}'. 
If he have seen no such picture in similar surroundings, his 
recollection is probably a correct one. 

A remembrance is also confirmed or rejected b}' testing its 
power to excite other remembrances. When our attention is 
fixed on a fact, the redintegratiA^e tendency operates to recall 
particulars connected with it, so that a little study ma}' bring 
before us all the prominent features of some scene or transaction 
in which we have been once interested. In this wa}^ circum- 
stances naturally connected with the point regarding which we 
are in doubt are frequently brought to mind ; whereas, if no 
effort can recall additional or confirmator}' circumstances, there 
is increased reason to distrust the recollection. 

For this cause witnesses in courts of law are often required 
to confirm their testimony concernhig some fact by relating, 
so far as they may, the time, place, and circumstances of its 
occurrence ; and, in general, testimon}^ is the more acceptable, 
the more detailed and circumstantial it may be. 
3 In thees- ^^ ^^® third place, judgment intermingles and com- 
tjmation of biucs its own behefs with those furnished immediately 
inTnt^com'- ^^.V memory, and thus performs an important function, 
bines with Ncxt to the doctrinc that memor}^ is an original and 
Hmv^such immediate source of knowledge, none other is so in- 
estimates dispensable to a satisfactory understandins^ of this 
faculty as the doctrine that memorj^ has a develop- 
ment, and that, in addition to the essential power of the repro- 
duction of old cognitions and beliefs, there is an acquired 



Chap. XLI.] MEMORY, 333 

memor}^, which' is related to the original and simple power some- 
what as original is to acquired perception. This developed or 
acquired memory is that which we co^nmonly exercise^ is what 
toe commonly call memory, and, while including an immediate 
knoidedge, contains a considerable admixture of lohat is ra- 
tioned and logical, Ttie mysterj' and difficulty which man}^ an 
able thinker has encountered, in connection witli the philosophy 
of remembrance, have arisen from his failure to trace the work- 
ings of the recollective facultj^ to their first beginnings, and to 
comprehend the duplex character of them as cognitions. 

The initial exercise of memory takes place in immediate con- 
nection with the perception of things as existing in time, and is 
scarcely distinguishable from the operation of the perceptive 
power. One can perceive time only as passing ; the very cog- 
nition of things as existing in the present must be accompanied 
by the knowledge of them as existing in the immediate past. 
These two modes of cognition are inseparably connected, and 
together form what may be denominated a perception of the con- 
tinued present. In this perception we gain those conceptions of 
time and of the relations of time, which are involved in every 
act of memory. Here, too, the mind obtains those measures of 
duration which it afterwards applies. 

The first memories of the infant are yevy imperfect. Its 
powers of attention and discrimination are feeble ; and its in- 
terest is wholly occupied with the immediate present. Even 
after the mind has commenced to remember things with some 
distinctness, and to realize how memor}^ differs from both per- 
ception and imagination, our judgment as to the time of past 
events remains indefinite. An}' one acquainted with little chil- 
dren knows their incapacity to tell the time of occurrences which 
they remember. The infant probably begins his measurement 
of duration while noticing short sensible events which succeed 
each other with regularity, The footsteps of the nurse, her 
monotonous song, the rocking of the cradle, or the successive 
breathings of the child itself mark the passing moments. The 
remembrance of a number of such events together — of as man}' 
steps as the nurse takes in crossing the room, of the s}'llables 
composing one stanza of her song, of a succession of cradle rock- 
ings, or of a number of excited breathings after being laid down 
from the nurse's arms — would yield a further measurement of 
time, and prepare for greater judgments. 

Before many years our earlier measurement of duration is 
succeeded by observation of the time consumed by regular arti- 
ficial movements; and so seconds, minutes, hours — marked by 
the ticking of pendulums, or the movements of hands over the 



334 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLI. 

face of a timepiece, or the creeping of the shadow on the dial, 
or the falling of sand through the hour-glass — are learned and 
accepted as definite portions of duration. Thus, b}^ different 
immediate judgments, we determine the duration of such regular 
processes, natural and artificial, as submit themselves to our 
continuous attention. After that we use such phenomena as 
standards, whereby we may determine with accuracy the dura- 
tion of other things. 

But, the measurement of the time of any standard event being 
once perfected, the time occupied by its subsequent recurrence 
may be recognized inferentially, and ma}' be inferential ly applied 
to any other event contemporaneous with it. Having once at- 
tained to the conception of a day as that length of time which is 
occupied by the diurnal revolution of the earth, there is no need 
that we should again measure the successive portions of the day. 
We maj' sleep during part of the twenty-four hours, and during 
the remaining part may give no special attention to the passage 
of time ; yet we can know that one day only has passed, if there 
have been only one alternation of darkness and light. 

In short, our determination of the time occupied by past 
events, and of the time which may have transpired since tlieir 
occurrence, is mostly made by means of inferences in which 
length of time, as measured by reference to some regular and 
well-known phenomenon, is assigned to the transactions that we 
have more immediatel}'^ in view. When we remember tliat such 
or such an event happened a day, or a week, or a year ago, 
this remembrance, like the perception of distance by sight, 
involves the use of rules which have been gained in a past 
experience. 

Fourthl}', and finally, judgment controls and assists 
guides the^^ memory in the effort to recall things forgotten. The 
recoUect reproduction of belief, as well as the reproduction of 
thought, is to a certain extent subject to the influence 
of the will ; and with reference to this fact, memory has been 
divided into the spontaneous and the intentional. 

We cannot recall what is not connected with our present 
thought, nor even that of which we do not already have some 
conception. But it is often possible to recall the forgotten partic- 
ulars of some scene or transaction which we partial!}' remember. 

The intellectual efibrt in which this end is accomphshed is 
named recollection^ because it is a collecting again of things 
into one's conscious knowledge. In this process the mind 
appeals to the laws of the reproduction of thought. We dwell 
on the partial remembrance and wait, expecting a redintegra- 
tion. If this do not take place soon, then we try one form of 



Chap. XLII.] THE CULTIVATION OF MEMORY. 335 

completion after another till at last some happy conjecture, 
nearer the truth than the rest, recalls the particulars desired ; 
for any past cognition is reproduced with special ease whenever 
our present thought may be similar to it. Having forgotten the 
name of some bo}^, we have not, of course, forgotten that he 
has a name ; therefore we try first one name and then another, 
till at last, striking the right name, or one similar to it, recollec- 
tion takes place. 

Such is a very frequent method of intentional memor3% JBut 
often ice seek the forgotten., not through the similar merely., 
hut through that also which may have been in any way asso- 
ciated^ in past cog7iitioji, with the object of our search. For 
instance, if one were desirous of recalling some remarkable 
saying of another's, he might dwell ou the occasion of the utter- 
ance, on the temper and aims which animated the speaker, on 
the company which he addressed, and on the general character 
of the discourse, and might hope that the remark might be sug- 
gested through its connection with some of these things ; for 
any recollection tends to revive that which has previously been 
associated with the fact which we recollect. 



Circumstan- 



CHAPTER XLII. 

THE CULTIVATION OF MEMORY. 

iiouii.ao<»xx- ^' There is no more faithful index of a man's intellec- 
tiaTamf '^'*" tual character than the style which his memory spontane- 
methodical ously assumes. Some persons naturally have a penetrating 
meiooiies. g^j-ength of mind, which immediately lays hold of the im- 
portant particulars of some transaction, neglecting the rest, which 
talent is for the most part developed by use and education; other 
persons are greatly deficient in this respect. Accordingly, some mem- 
ories are merely receptive ; the particulars of any event or scene are 
recalled by them indiscriminately, and are mentioned in the evident, 
obvious relations of time and place: while other memories, as if guided 
by an instinctive judgment, bring up only those particulars which are 
appropriate to the occasion or conducive to some desired end. 

Lord Karaes excellently describes the diffusive and circumstantial 
style of memory. "In the minds of some persons," he says, "thoughts 
and circumstances crowd upon each other by the slightest connections. 
I ascribe this to a bluntness in the discerning faculty; for a person 
who cannot accurately distinguish between a slight connection and one 
that is more intimate is equally affected by each. Such a person must 
necessarily have a great flow of ideas, because they are introduced by 



336 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLH. 

any relation indifferently; and the slighter relations, being without 
number, furnish ideas without end." 

The same author calls attention to that humorous illustration of 
vulgar memory which Shakspeare has given in the speech of Mrs. 
Quickly to Sir John Falstaff. "What," said the knight, "is the 
gross sum that I owe thee V " His hostess replied: " j\lany, if thou 
wert an honest man, thyself, and thy money too. Thou didst swear to 
me upon a parcel-gilt goblel, sitting in my Dolphin-chamber, at the 
round table, by a sea-coal fire, upon Wednesday in Whitsun-week, 
when the prince broke thy head for likening his father to a singing- 
man of Windsor ; thou didst swear to me then, as I was washing thy 
wound, to marry me, and make me my lady thy wife. Canst thou 
deny it? Did not goodwife Keech, the butcher's wife, come in then, 
and call me gossip Quickly? coming in to borrow a mess of vinegar; 
telling us she had a good dish of prawns; whereby thou didst desire to 
eat some; whereby 1 told thee they were ill for a green wound? And 
didst thou not, when she was gone down-stairs, desire me to be no more 
so familiarity with such poor people; saying that ere long they should 
call me madam? And didst thou not kiss me, and bid me fetch thee 
thirty shillings ? I put thee now to thy book-oath : deny it if thou canst." 

A similar particularity is exhibited by the coachman in " 8criblerus," 
who, giving an account of a fight, runs through all the categories of 
Aristotle: "Two men fought for a prize: one was a fair man, a 
sergeant in the Guards; the other black, a butcher. The sergeant 
had red trousers ; the butcher blue. They fought upon a stage, about 
four o'clock, and the sergeant wounded the butcher in the leg." 

In contrast with the foregoing, a skilled and methodical recollection 
may be illustrated from Mark Antony's oration over the dead body of 
Caesar, in which every circumstance calculated to excite the sympathy 
of his hearers is artfully recalled ; — 

You all do know this mantle : I remember 

Tlie first time ever Caesar put it on ; 

'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent, 

That day he overcame the Nervii. 

Loolv, in this place ran Cassius' dagger through: 

See what a rent the envious Casca made : 

Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd; 

And as he phick'd his cursed steel away, 

Mark how the blood of C^sar follow' d it, 

As rushing out of doors, to be resolv'd 

If Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no; 

For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel: 

Judge, O you gods, how dearly Ccesar lov'd him! 

This was the most unkindest cut of all; 

For Avhen the noble Caesar saw him stab. 

Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arras, 

Quite vanquish'd him : then burst his mighty heart; 

And, in his mantle muffling up his face, 

Even at the base of Pompey's statue, 

Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell." 

A similar skilful selection of circumstances characterizes every good 
description of familiar scenes. " The Cotter's Saturday Night," by 



Chap. XLH.] THE CULTIVATION OF MEMORY. 337 

Burns, and the ''Elegy in a Village Churchyard," by Gray, both 
largely composed from recollections, contain excellent illustrations. 

2. Had we time to discuss other modes of memory di.xidlo- 

of a gooV*^^^ g^'^s to those just considered, it would be interesting to 

memory. notice the effect of one's prevailing temperament, of his 

^^ted^"^^^^" regular business, or of his chief interests and inclinations, 

upon the current of his recollections. 

But we shall now pass to the contemplation of those characteristics 
upon which the usefulness of one's remembrances, whatever be their 
objective character, immediately depends. These are three in number, 
— namely, ease of acquisition, strength of retention, and readiness of repro- 
duction. The memories of different minds differ greatly in all these 
respects, partly by reason of their natural constitution, and partly by 
reason of their acquired habits ; and it is seldom that any one mind 
excels in all these particulars at once. 

Very often those who memorize with facility do not long retain 
what they have learned; and often those whose memories are suffi- 
ciently retentive find it difficult to recall instantly circumstances which 
they desire to mention. This separation of qualities does not take 
place necessarily, but is owing to a variety of causes. A person who 
learns easily is not compelled to any great or prolonged exercise of the 
attention, and frequently on this account fails to secure his acquisi- 
tions. This deficiency generally may be supplied if he repeat to him- 
self what he desires to remember, and make it a special subject of 
consideration and of recollective effort. As a rule, we retain only that 
which we have acquired with some effort and attention. 

The late Sir Thomas Fowell Buxton said to his sous, " What you 
know, know thoroughly;" and added: "There are few instances in 
modern times of a rise equal to that of Sir Edward Sugden. After 
one of the AVeymouth elections I was shut up with him in a carriage 
for twenty-four hours. I ventured to ask him what was the secret of 
his success. His answer was: 'I resolved, when beginning to read 
law, to make everything I acquired perfectly my own, and never to go 
to a second thing till I had entirely accomplished the first. Many of 
my competitors read as much in a day as I read in a week ; but at 
the end of twelve months my knowledge was as fresh as on the day it 
was acquired, while theirs had glided away from their recollection.' " 

The difficulty which many experience in recalling what they cer- 
tainly know_ is not always easily remedied. It arises from a slowness 
of mind which is often natural, but which is also produced by various 
depressing or retarding influences. This difficulty will be lessened by 
the systematic exercise of recollection; but it is to be counteracted 
chiefly by the cultivation of a cheerful and collected frame of spirit, 
by the maintenance of bodily freshness and vigor, and by a wise par- 
ticipation in that social intellectual intercourse which brings our fac- 
ulties into lively exercise. Stupidity and dulness sometimes take 
possession of the most successful student. Let him quit his books ; 
let him seek the open air and the scenery of nature ; let him devote 
himself for a time to practical affairs ; let him mingle with the life of 
men. He will return to his studies with new zest, and with a sur- 
prising increase of mental activity. 

22 



338 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLII. 

The faculty "^^^ doctrine has been taught by some that the faculties 
of invention of invention and of memory never exist together in the 
as related same mind to any eminent degree. It is true that the ex- 
Lor™ Kaiues elusive or special cultivation of either of these faculties, 
and Profes- while the other is comparatively neglected, tends to lessen 
quoted ^^"^^^ the uncultivated ability. " A man of accurate judgment," 
says Lord Kames, " cannot have a great flow of ideas, be- 
cause the slighter relations, making no .figure in his mind, have no 
povv^er to introduce ideas. And hence it is that accurate judgment is 
not friendly to declamation or copious eloquence. This reasoning is 
confirmed by experience ; for it is a noted observation that a great or 
comprehensive memory is seldom connected with a good judgment." 
The first sentence in this passage may be too unqualified; in many 
men the exercise of sound judgment does not interfere perceptibly 
with correct and ready memory. Yet that intense and peculiar 
thought which belongs to inventive and speculative minds undoubt- 
edly tends to carelessness and incapacity in all matters of mere acqui- 
sition and reproduction. Hence men of philosophical genius often pre- 
sent a poor appearance in comparison with others whose talent is of a 
lower grade, and sometimes even are hesitating and uncertain with re- 
spect to questions which they themselves have investigated and settled. 

An extreme readiness and confidence in expounding the details of 
any system indicate rather the faithful disciple and the able advocate 
than the master himself. Professor Stewart remarks that " they who 
are possessed of much acuteness and originality enter with difficulty 
into the views of others, because they cannot adopt opinions which 
they have not examined, and because their attention is often seduced 
by their own speculations;" then he continues: " It is not merely in 
the acquisition of knowledge that a man of genius is likely to find 
himself surpassed by others : he has commonly his information much 
less at command than those who are possessed of an inferior degree of 
originality; and, what is somewhat remarkable, he has it least of all at 
command on those subjects on which he has found his imiention most fertile. 

"• Sir Isaac Newton, as we are told by Dr. Pemberton, was often at 
a loss when the conversation turned on his own discoveries. It is 
probable that they made but a slight impression on his mind, and that 
a consciousness of his inventive powers prevented him from taking 
much pains to treasure them up in his memory. ... A man of orig- 
inal genius, who is fond of exercising his reasoning powers anew on 
every point as it occurs to him, and who cannot submit to rehearse 
the ideas of others, or to repeat by rote the conclusions which he has 
deduced from previous reflection, often appears, to superficial observers, 
to fall below the level of ordinary understandings; while another, 
destitute of both quickness and invention, is admired for that promp- 
titude in his decisions which arises from the inferiority of his under- 
standing." These observations contain comfort for some earnest and 
independent thinkers; but they should not be interpreted as teaching 
that slowness of recollection is a mark of genius. 
Notable ex- Many examples of notable memory are recorded in his- 
ampies of tory. Till the decay of Pascal's health had impaired his | 
memory. memory, he is said to have "forgotten nothing of what he 



Chap. XLII.] THE CULTIVATION OF MEMORY. 339 

had done, read, or thought in any part of his rational age." Niebuhr, 
according to his biographer, " mastered languages and sciences, signs 
and the things signified, with equal ease, and with such certainty that 
with the mind's eye he saw each in its own individuality, separate 
from its fellows, and yet intimately and variously related to them. 
His memory was equally retentive of perceptions and of thoughts, of 
views and feelings, of sights and sounds; whatever came within the 
sphere of his recognition took up its due relative position in his hiind 
with equal certainty and precision." The late Dr. Addison Alexander 
was able to repeat a discourse verbatim after one reading ; and on one 
occasion, a considerable matriculation list of students having been 
mislaid, he immediately made out another from memory. 

Hortensius, the Roman orator, at the close of a large auction sale, 
could enumerate all the articles sold in their order, together with the 
prices paid, and the names of the purchasers. " Nature," says Cicero, 
" gave Hortensius so happy a memory that he never had need of com- 
mitting to writing any discourse which he had meditated, while, after 
his opponent had finished speaking, he could recall, word by word, not 
only what the other had said, but also the authorities which had been 
cited against himself." Caesar, and other great military leaders, both 
of ancient and of modern times, have been remarkable for being able 
to recall the name and the exploits of every officer or soldier who had 
ever distinguished himself in their armies. It is related that Alex- 
ander the Great knew the name and face of every individual in his 
army of thirty thousand men. 

A fellow-student of the father of the present writer had the whole 
of the New Testament so thoroughly learned by heart that, on the 
mention of any sentence, he could give the chapter and verse M'here it 
is to be found, and, on the numbers of chapter and verse being given, 
he could repeat the words thus called for. In ancient times the prac- 
tice of committing literary productions to memory was more common 
than it is at the present day, when reading is universal and books are 
plentiful; and it resulted in achievements which would now be con- 
sidered more remarkable than they were considered then. The two 
great poems of Homer, each containing twenty-four books and about 
fifteen thousand lines, were probably composed before "the art of 
writing and the use of manageable writing materials were known in 
Greece and the Grecian islands;" and it is certain that they were 
fully committed to memory by " rhapsodists," who recited them for 
the entertainment of others. 

A very wonderful exercise of memory was exhibited by Morphy, the 
chess-player of New Orleans. This man sat alone in one room in a 
New York hotel, while six of the best players in that city sat in an 
adjoining room, each with a chess-board before him. The six players 
severally made moves at their pleasure; and each move, when made, 
was announced to Morphy through an open door. With very little 
hesitation he directed another move in the game reported from ; and 
so he continued playing till he had beaten the greater number of his 
antagonists, one or two coming off with drawn games. Such a feat is 
most extraordinary; it reminds one of those wonderful calculators 
who, using memory instead of slate and pencil, perform complicated 



340 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLII. 

arithmetical problems in their heads. These are prodigies whom 
the Creator sends into the world that we may see what a marvellous 
thing the human mind is, and of what undreamt-of accomplishments 
it is capable. 

Theimprov- ^' ^^"^ °^ ordinary talent cannot hope to equal the at- 
abiiity of tainments of genius. They should satisfy themselves with 
memory. ^j^g reflection that extraordinary powers are not essential to 
honorable success. Yet those who would pass their lives to the most 
advantage, and who would participate in that nobility which intellect- 
ual advancement confers, should remember that the powers of the 
mind are more capable of development than those of the bod}^ and 
that, of all our mental endowments, memory is the most improvable. 

This is particularly noticeable in the education of children, who at 
first are incapable of learning even the shortest verses, but who soon 
show themselves able for considerable lessons. Presently all the rules 
and methods, forms and paradigms, of grammars and arithmetics, are 
mastered; the -mind is stored with the facts of history and geography 
and with the principles and illustrations of science, while whole pages 
of poetry and oratory are so studied that they become part of one's 
mental furniture, and are rehearsed with ease. Moreover, in subse- 
quent life, should one's position call for the regular use of memory, a 
command of this faculty is gained rapidly by means of practice. In 
certain denominations of Christians young ministers are expected first 
to write out and then to commit to memory the sermon for Sabbath 
morning; and it is the common experience of such that this work, 
laborious at first, soon becomes easy. One or two attentive readings 
fixes an imprint of the discourse upon the mind. 

Men, too, who are accustomed to employ their memory receive a 
peculiar satisfaction from the exercise of this faculty, and resort to it 
as a means of mental discipline and enjoyment. This was a pleasure 
of Lord Macaulay, a man whose memory resembled that of Pascal. In 
October, 1857, after he had retired from public life, and in great part 
from literary composition, he writes: "I walked in the portico and 
learned by heart the noble fourth act of the ' Merchant of Venice. ' 
There are four hundred lines, of which I knew a hundred and fifty. 
I made myself perfect master of the whole, the prose letter included, 
in two hours." About this same time he committed long passages from 
Lucretius, Catullus, and Martial. Also, having studied the Peerage at 
odd moments, he "could soon repeat off book the entire roll of the 
House of Lords; " then, taking up the Cambridge and Oxford Calen- 
dars, he soon "had the whole of the University Fasti by heart." " An 
idle thing," he adds ; "but I wished to try whether my memory is as 
strong as it used to be, and I perceive no decay." 

xT„i.,_ 1 Faithful commemorizations and frequent rehearsals may 

Natural mne- , , ^ ^ ii • • i ^ c i.u "1 

monies. The be depended upon as the principal means lor the permanent 
aid given improvement of the memory. But we must add that the 
propn^ar^^ recollective faculty may receive great immediate assistance 
rangement from our arranging in our minds the particulars of any 
t^nof'ideas ^^^'^^ ^'^^^ ^^^ some orderly connection; and that this pro- 
■ cess tends also to a happy development of the reproductive 
faculty. The mind loves to act according to some law; therefore it 



Chap. XLII.] THE CULTIVATION OF MEMORY. 341 

loves order, for order is an arrangement of things according to a rule 
or law. Any one accustomed to master the details of comprehensive 
topics can testify that these details are recalled much more easily and 
completely if they have been arranged according to some one or more 
of the natural principles of order. 

An order of recollection may be derived from the succession of 
events in time, or from the position of things in space, or from that 
similarity and difference of objects whereby they are thrown into logical 
classes, or from a continuous connection of cause and effect, or from 
association with other things that have a fixed order, or from grades 
of importance or of excellence, or from degrees in the possession of any 
quality, or from a combination of any two or more of these grounds of 
arrangement. The order of time is observed in the composition of 
chronicles or annals, in which no further departure takes place from 
simple successiveness than the nature of the history absolutely necessi- 
tates. Most private narratives, also, are constructed on this principle. 
The order of place applies to the description of any territory and its 
contents. Thus a farmer might describe his property by mentioning 
the different fields in succession as they lie in rows running east and 
west, and the various farm buildings with reference to some central 
structure. So one who had seen an exhibition of paintings might 
remember them according to the several places on the gallery wall in 
which they successively met his attention. Persons have been known 
who, after one or two readings, could repeat the entire contents of a 
daily newspaper, in which feat their memory doubtless was assisted 
by the order of place according to which the articles and advertisements 
followed each other in the columns of the paper. 

The collection of things to be remembered into logical classes, ac- 
cording to the agreement and disagreement of their natures, is a prin- 
cipal step in the construction of any science, and, together with their 
proper subdivision, is an aid to the memorization no less than it is to 
the comprehension of facts and principles. This rule applies only so far 
as the matter of any department of knowledge admits of classification. 
Always helpful, it is more useful in relation to some topics of study 
than to others. Only classification enables the botanist and chemist 
to retain and recall the results of long-continued observation and ex- 
periment; no philosopher, statesman, man of letters, or man of busi- 
ness can hope to have a large store of information at command if he 
do not digest the details of his knowledge and arrange them under 
appropriate heads. 

Often, again, the connection of things in our recollection is main- 
tained, not by any order belonging to the things themselves, but by 
an order in other things to which they are related. Should some city 
officer desire to remember personally all the men of business within 
his territory, he might recall them according to the local order of 
their places of business; or he might arrange them in his mind with 
reference to their modes of employment, each trade constituting a class 
by itself; or he might form an alphabetical list of their names and 
familiarize himself with them in this way. 

Finally, the arrangement of things in memory, according to their 
importance, or their degree of the possession of some quality, is often 



342 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLII. 

adopted. For in practical matters we desire to remember, first, that 
which is of most consequence, and then things of less importance ; 
while for the ends of display and impression we begin with things 
of small moment, that the interest of our hearers may increase and 
may cuhninate at last. This order of importance is naturally followed 
when we would enumerate the individual persons or tilings in any 
class which we may have formed ; and then it is supplementary to the, 
order resulting from logical collection and division. 

For one principle of order often co-operates with another in the 
guidance and assistance of our recollection. The order of place and 
that of time are concurrent with reference to objects viewed upon a 
journey. Those of time, causation, and written language may unite 
in histoiy. For the most part, one principle supplements the work of 
another, and arranges the details of some subordinate subject that has 
already found a place for itself as a whole. Thus the topics of his- 
tory are first arranged according to the order of time, but each of 
them is then treated with reference to its own origin and develojDment, 
contemporary occurrences being for the moment neglected. Sometimes, 
too, History must describe scenes according to an order of locality, and 
sometimes she must descend to mere descriptive lists or enumerations. 

The foregoing observations may indicate in what way the mind, 
with more or less consciousness of purpose, elaborates its acquisitions 
so as to facilitate future recollection. They apply only to cases in 
which such elaboration is found desirable, and not to cases which 
call for no work save that of simple memorization. But it is to be 
observed that in this arrangement of materials for remembrance, the 
mind does not slavishly adhere to any one law which may have served 
a purpose, but employs some other law so soon as another may suggest 
itself as better fitted to group and unite together the materials to be 
remembered. Hence the natural order, even of our most considered 
recollections, cannot he said to follow any principles fixedly , hut rather uses 
one principle after another, and this with a frequent freedom of choice; in 
having which freedom memory differs from the reasoning potver. 

While care and ingenuity may greatly improve those 
mnemonics, mnemonic arrangements of acquired knowledge which the 
mind makes spontaneously, and this especially in collec- 
tions of fact which admit of scientific arrangement, we believe that no 
" art of memory " can supersede the methods of Nature, and that the 
work of Nature admits of no improvements, save such as may result 
from the development and application of her methods. For this reason 
certain artificial devices, which have been recommended in both an- 
cient and modern times as powerful aids to memory, have been found 
to be of limited application, and consequently of limited value. 

These devices may be illustrated by that of a pious servant-girl, who 
connected the successive parts of the sermon, on Sabbath morning, with 
the different panels in the ceiling of the church, and who thus, when 
the sermon was over, had a kind of map of it in her mind. Possibly the 
instructions to which she listened may have been improved in con- 
nectedness by having the order of place added to the order of thought; 
but, ordinarily, the parts of a well-composed discourse suggest each 
other better without such external aids. The recoUective location of 



Chap.xliil] phantasy. 343 

the several parts of a discourse upon those segments of a plane with 
■which they had been previously associated, would tend to prevent the 
omission of any part from our rehearsal ; but we question whether it 
would directly aid the remembrance of it. The effort needful to form 
the artificial association would weaken somewhat one's attention to 
the true and proper relations of the parts of the discourse, and in this 
■way more might be lost than gained. 

But if an external association can be formed so easily and quickly 
as not to interfere with the perception of internal connections, the 
memory is assisted by such an association. Hence a good reader 
more easily learns sentences from a book than as repeated from the 
lips of another person; for he sees them in their places. Hence, too, 
historical charts, in which the comparative duration of kingdoms and 
the times of events are denoted to the eye, are of considerable value. 

Moreover, there is an especial advantage, when things have no close 
connection of their own, if we can impose one upon them by some 
easily remembered device. Those who have studied Hebrew grammar 
may remember the Heemantic and Begadkephath consonants, which 
designations, and others like them, are simply mnemonic words, each 
containing all of the class of letters which it names. 

In like manner the ancient Latin prosodists arranged lists of 
words in hexameters, so that they might be more easily committed; 
and of this sort is " The Memoria Technica of Mr. Grey, in which 
a great deal of historical, chronological, and geographical knowledge 
is comprised in a set of verses, which the student is supposed to make 
as familiar to himself as school- boys do the rules of grammar." A 
more familiar illustration is presented by the old stanza which begins, 
*' Thirty days hath September," and by means of which the number 
of days in each month is fixed in our remembrance. 

That, too, was a fine piece of ingenuity by which Petrus Hispanus 
— afterwards Pope John XXII. — indicated, in a few lines, the char- 
acter as to figure and mood of all lawful syllogisms, and the mode in 
which those of the second and third figures might be reduced to the 
first. He made a few short and easily remembered symbols express a 
great number of truths, not easily associated together; for we acquire 
and recall with special ease what may have been happily expressed in 
some rhythmical form of words. 



CHAPTER XLni. 

PHANTASY. 

Therepro- 1- The reproductive phase of mental life comprises 
ductive phase more than the mere exercise of the reproductive power, 
— that is, more than the simple reproduction of past 
thought or knowledge, according to the laws of suggestion. It 
includes analysis, synthesis, judgment, quest, elaboration. It is 



344 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLIII. 

that development of our activity in which reproduction is the 
most prominent factor, and in which the mind, without making 
any advancement in knowledge, recalling and reconstructing the 
remembrances and ideas of its past acquisition, supplies itself 
with matter for contemplation. 

If we would sharply distinguish the reproductive from the 
elaborative phase, we must emphasize the fact that contem- 
plation and the satisfaction to be immediatel}^ derived therefrom 
constitute the principal and ultimate aim of the former mode of 
activit3\ When some recollection or imagination is used in the 
course of argumentative or scientific or moral thought, not for 
its own sake, but for the purposes of conviction or instruction 
or guidance, this would belong to the rational, rather than to the 
reproductive, intellect ; for the mind exercises all its elemen- 
tary powers in each of the phases of its activit3^ But because 
such uses of reproduced thought can be exhibited well in connec- 
tion with others in which contemplation is the end aimed at, they 
have sometimes been discussed in connection with the latter, 
and then assumed as understood in the philosophy of the dis- 
cursive faculty. This course is not objectionable ; there is rather 
an advantage in it, provided the reasons for it be understood. 
Two names ^^ have Considered those mental operations in 
for therepro- which the mind recalls and modifies its past cognitions. 
uity. These We shaU now discuss those operations in which con- 
fe^SiTiy spe- ccptious and ideas, abstracted from the conviction 
ciaiized. which originally accompanied them, are reproduced 
and elaborated. The general faculty corresponding to these 
operations has received two names from philosophers. Some, 
adopting a Greek word, have called it the phantasy, or power of 
producing appearances ; while a greater number have employed 
the Latin term imagination^ which signifies the power of con- 
structing likenesses. Both designations are figurative ; and 
both direct attention to the principal function of the faculty, 
which is to furnish ideal or mental objects. But while both 
terms have been applied to the general faculty, there is a diflTer- 
ence in their use : the one emphasizes the reproductive, and the 
other the constructive, activity of mind. 

This difference becomes especiall}^ marked when either term 
is opposed to the other. Then the word ' ' fantas}^ " signifies 
that development of the reproductive power whose action re- 
ceives little or no guidance from the will or judgment, in which 
a succession of fleeting appearances combine with each other, 
according to the spontaneous operation of the associative ten- 
dency. " Imagination," as contrasted with " fantasy," signifies 
that development of reproduction which is controlled by an in- 



Chap. XLIII.] PHANTASY. 345 

telligent purpose, and which accomplishes a desired work, — 
that is, the elaboration of mental images or representations. 

^ ^ ^ _ Those who have employed the term " imagination " 
ductive fac- in the generic sense have distinguished the two modes 
Fantasy coi of the facult}^ as the reproductive and the productive 
trasted with imagination, the former of these being identical with 
imagination. ^^^ fantasv in its specific character, and the latter 
with the imagination as contrasted with mere fantasy. Yet we 
should notice that reproduction is not confined to the fantasy, 
nor production to the imagination. Reproduction is the essen- 
tial basis of each style of activity ; and the creations of either 
power are equally wonderful with those of the other. But be- 
cause fantasy works without the direction of skill and judgment, 
her constructions are largelj^ accidental, — they fall together 
like the patterns in a kaleidoscope ; while imagination, being 
an intentional exercise of intellect, exhibits productions spe- 
cially worthy of the name. 

Characteris- 2. Before entering upon the discussion of either 
t'cs onbe specific faculty, some remarks are due to that general 
uity rt Does character which belongs to both. 
oijVctirs^ Let us note the significant fact that imaginative 
real. • thought presents itself without attendant belief in the 

reality of its objects. The essential difference between memory 
and phantasy is that in the one both the conceptions and the 
convictions of our original cognition are reproduced, while in 
the other conceptions only are recalled and used. A tailor may 
imagine himself a king, yet, unless he be deranged or deceived 
in some way, he cannot beheve himself to be one ; but when he 
remembers his customary occupation, he has both the conception 
and the conviction that he is a tailor. Thus Nature herself dis- 
tinguishes thought from belief, conception from conviction, — a 
most important distinction in philosophy. 

Again, let us remark that the objects of the imagina- 
fo/the^most tiou do uot, for the most part, exist. We may locate 
part non-ex- iniaginar}^ events in real places, and in other wa3'S 
mingle knowledge with fancy. But the objects which 
imagination furnishes, and with which she is especially con- 
cerned, do not exist. When we call them objects, or more ex- 
pressly speak of imaginar}' or ideal objects, we use a figurative 
sort of language to indicate, not that we are reall}^ thinking of 
objects, but only that we are using ideas in the same manner 
as if we were. 

3. And all Adopting this mode of speech, we say, further, that 
individual, the objects produced b}^ the imagination are all indi- 
vidual. This statement does not conflict with the doctrine that 



346 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLIII. 

generalization and its results, and the secondar}^ powers gen- 
erall}^, are employed in the reproductive phase of mental life. 
General notions furnish the rules which the imagination follows ; 
and the attributes with which she clothes her creations are ab- 
stracted from many sources. But those ideal objects which 
imagination produces are individuals. If the}^ were of a general 
character, they would belong to the discursive phase of thought, 
and would present laws or t3'pes such as reason uses. Imagi- 
nar}^ objects and constructions may contain much that is indefi- 
nitely conceived, and may nearly approach universality^ but 
the}' are alwa^'s granted individual difference ; for in contem- 
plation the mind loves individuality, and whatever else may 
make thought more to resemble fact. 

4. Employs With rcspcct to the ideas of existence and non- 
the thoughts existence, the composition of imaginative thought does 
and lion- not differ from that of other thought. We conceive of 
existence, things as existing and as non-existent and as matters 
of question just as we do in a narration of fact. 

The storj^ of Mother Hubbard and her dog ma}" furnish a good 
illustration for those who are not high-minded. For Mother 
Hubbard and her dog and the cupboard are conceived of as 
existing ; but there is at first an imaginar}' question as to the 
existence of a bone, and whether or not the dog will get one ; 
and then these latter conceptions are united with that of non- 
existence. 

"For when she got there 
The cupboard was bare ; 
And so the poor doggy got none.'* 

Imaginative thought, in its exhibition of objects, emploj^s the 
same existential statements and conceptions that are emplo3'ed 
b}^ assertive or actualistic thought ; but the propositions and con- 
ceptions of imagination are merely" enunciative, while those 
which assert fact express also belief or knowledge. 
, ^ , , In the next place, while imagination exhibits ideal 

5 Includes -u- i • !• • i • ^ . . -. 

hypothetical oDjects as cxistmg variousiy. Without anv judgment 
aidTeiief. ^^ ^^^^^^ ^^ ^^ ^^^^ reality of this existence, it yet 
also includes much judgment and belief concerning the 
imaginary existence of its own entities. The judgments and 
beliefs thus formed are hypothetical, and are of two classes. 
They comprise, first, those pertaining to the relations which 
must exist, even in imagination, among an}" given set of entities, 
according to their nature and the nature of things in general ; 
and, secondly, our judgments in regard to the fitness or unfitness 
of an}' element of conception to enter into the construction which 
we may be endeavoring to complete. The first of these modes 



Chap. XLIIL] PHANTASY. 347 

of judgment belongs alike to fantasy and imagination ; the sec- 
ond to imagination onl3\ These judgments are hypothetical ; 
the}^ do not affirm the real existence of an3thing, but onlj" as- 
sert that, on the supposition of the existence of certain objects, 
the}^ must exist in certain relations, or in connection with cer- 
tain other objects, which therefore must be supposed to exist 
also. 

Should one form to himself the conception, or read the de- 
scription, of the capital of some ancient empire, he could not 
do so without giving the cit}' a location in some country, or with- 
out supposing builders who erected it out of suitable materials, 
and houses and streets accommodated for private and public use, 
and inhabitants to occupy these. He would also conceive some 
governmental officers and regulations to be a necessary part of 
its constitution. Or were it his desire to plan a model capital 
for some Utopian kingdom, he would exercise judgment with 
respect to the site of the city, and the width, length, grade, 
and direction of its streets ; with respect to the materials for 
building, the location and construction of buildings according to 
their several uses, and the disposition of parks, squares, foun- 
tains, trees, statues, and other ornamental additions ; and with 
respect to the political, educational, and benevolent institutions 
which might insure the well-being of the inhabitants. 

This exercise of judgment is a principal part of the work of 
the poet ; it is because of his skill in the emploj'ment of it that 
he is called a poet, — a maker of things beautiful and pleasing. 

Not liter "^^^ formations of fanc}' are often wonderfully dif- 
a'liy a crea- ferent from an^'thing to be found in actual existence, 
a reproduc-^ ^^^^ therefore, because of their great novelty, they 
tive and pias- have been st3ied creations. But it is scarcelj' neces- 
10, powei. g^^^^ ^^ observe that imagination is onl}^ a reproductive 
and constructive faculty ; it is not literallj^ a creative one. The 
Kovelt}' of her productions pertains only to their construction. 
Phantasy does not provide for herself a single elemental thought, 
but obtains all the materials for her building from the faculties 
of perception and acquisition. Hence it is true, philosophically, 
that fact furnishes all the materials for fiction. 
7. Is limited Finally, we say that the realm of phantas}- includes 
°"ii^r^?\ all things that have in them an element of possibility, 
Btract possi- and is therefore bounded on]}'' by the absence of pos- 
biiity. sibilit}-. The purely impossible — that which contains 

no element of possibility — cannot be conceived. We cannot 
imagine a change to take place without aii}^ cause, or two things 
to be one in the same sense in which they are two, nor anything 
to be and not to be at the same time. Nor can anything impos- 



848 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLIII. 

sible be conceived so far forth as it is impossible. But we can 
imagine things impossible which contain elements of possibilit}', 
provided only we confine our attention to these elements. The 
Lady Fragrantia asked of Baron Munchausen, " Praj^, m}' dear 
Baron, were you ever at the Falls of Niagara?" *' Yes, ray 
lady," he rephed ; " I have been, many years ago, at the Falls 
of Niagara, and found no more difficulty in swimming up and 
down the cataracts than I should to move a minuet." This story 
of the Baron does not evidence any love for truth. He asserts, 
a« a feat of his own, what would be a downright impossibility 
for any human being. Yet the statement has a sort of conceiva- 
bilit}^ ; because no one could swim without a sufficiencj^ of water, 
and there is alwaj^s plenty in the Falls of Niagara. 

3. We pass now to fantasy, or the spontaneous mode 
In what' of the reproductive phase of thought. As contrasted 
sense a pas- -with the imagination, some have called this a passive 

sive power. • /> , i . 

power, because in mere fantasy voluntar}^ agencj^ is 
suppressed, and the associative tendency operates according to 
any influences that may be brought to bear upon it from within 
or from without. 

Nevertheless, in one sense, the mind is pre-eminently active in 
all its repj'oductions. In this case the term " passive " can sig- 
nify nothing more than that voluntary activity is either absent or 
at the least subordinated to that which is spontaneous. 
Never exer- Fantasy, like our other intellectual powers, never 
cised alone, works wholly by itself. Generally, its operations 
nent mTni- mingle in that thronging crowd of activities which 
festations. p^gg ^y^j, ^j^g track of one's conscious life. Some- 
times the soul is so engaged in the observation of fact, or so 
absorbed in memories of the past, or so intent upon the solu- 
tion of some problem, that the contemplation of idealities is 
excluded ; but when our minds are not thus earnestly preoccu- 
pied, we often entertain ourselves with passing fancies. 

This especially occurs when one's surroundings naturally sug- 
gest similitudes or suppositions. In a journey through a wild 
wooded countr}'^, strange shapes, to which the fantas}^ has given 
a nature not their own, present themselves to the lonelj^ traveller ; 
incidents, adventures, dangers, and escapes are experienced which 
have no nearer relation to reality than is to be found in the pos- 
sibility of their occurrence and in their congruity with surround- 
ing scenes. The lively images of fantasy fill up the intervals of 
observation and reflection. 

But, to find this power in its purest and most uninterrupted 
exercise, ^e must turn to times at which the mind is freest from 
the influence of external objects and from the guidance of its 



Chap. XLIIL] FANTASY. 349 

own rational energy / for the first of these causes continually re- 
calls the soul to the apprehension of fact, and the other determines 
its thoughts into some definite line of recollection or elaboration. 
This freedom is especially experienced whenever the general 
energies of body and mind are in a reduced or a disordered con- 
dition ; and for this reason the phenomena of reverie, of dreams, 
of somnambulism, of the hallucinations of sense, and of insanit}", 
all illustrate the workings of the fantasy. 

Reverie de- The Style of thought called reverie attends a condi- 
fined. tion of mind in which the vigorous exercise of our 

faculties is either prevented by weakness or exhaustion, or laid 
aside through indolence. The first thinkings of the infant are 
probably- of this description ; such also are the wanderings of 
extreme old age. In reverie an unprompted and unchecked 
succession of thoughts pass before the mind, and are contem- 
plated with equal interest whether they be recollections or mere 
imaginings. But the principal part of reverie, and that which 
gives character to its operations, is the exercise of the fantas}^ 
Persons fully occupied with care and business have little time 
for this indulgence ; but those who are disengaged often spend 
hours in it. Thus employed, the ambitious youth lays out for 
himself a long course of exciting adventure or honorable achieve- 
ment, and the maiden surrounds herself with the delights of a 
happy home in which she reigns the queen. 
Fantasy in- Less energy is needed for the action of fantasy than 
a^siSt*^S ^^^ ^^ exercise of our other mental gifts. A notice- 
ercise of able degree of vigor is required even for distinct and 
™gy!^^^The Satisfactory recollection. One whose remembrance 
reason given, ma}^ be undecided, by reason of apathy or distraction 
or weakness or somnolenc}^ ma}' sometimes overcome this diffi- 
culty if he rouse himself to energetic and attentive thinking. 
An equal, if not a greater, degree of psychical force is demanded 
for any mode of external cognition. Mere sensation may not 
require much tension of mind ; but the exercise of judgment or 
perception in connection with the sensation involves a considera- 
ble degree of it. A yet larger draft on mental vigor is made by 
the elaborations of the imagination ; while rational and abstract 
thought, in constructing its theories and solving its problems, 
calls for the highest exercise of energy and attention. For 
then we detain the passing idea, scrutinize remembered details, 
select significant facts and reject the insignificant, carefully 
join consequents to antecedents and one correlate to another, 
and guide the whole work of reason to a satisfactory conclusion. 
Fantasy has no such labors to perform, and therefore works 
with ease. 



350 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLIII. 

In the grand Centennial Exposition which recently took place 
in Philadelphia, there was one prominent building called the 
Machinery Hall. In this hall many steam-engines, all supplied 
with power from one large boiler, were engaged in various 
labors. Some drove card-printing, silk-weaving, type-setting, 
pin-making, and other light machines ; some assisted in the 
heavier tasks of cutting nails, stamping coins, turning fanning- 
wheels and furniture lathes, and twisting ropes of wire or hemp ; 
others gave motion to heavy mill-stones, or worked huge pumps, 
or exerted enormous f)ressure upon bales of cotton or plates of 
iron, so as to alter these in bulk or shape. Now we might sup- 
pose a time at which the supplj' of steam from the central reser- 
voir would be insufficient to move the larger engines and their 
attachments, while yet those engines which had only light opera- 
tions to sustain would be as busily at work as ever. And it is 
evident that if the steam were shut off from the larger engines 
at any time, the smaller ones, when supplied with all the force 
to be expended, would work yet more vigorously, and that, too, 
with a less amount of motive power than would be usually em- 
ployed for the whole collection of machinery. 

Something like this occurs in the economy of mind ; and for 
this reason the operations of fantasy frequently appear more 
extensive, and even more vigorous, in proportion to the state of 
weakness o** abeyance which may affect our other powers. 
Hence persons who have recovered slowly from some severe sick- 
ness can tell how their enforced leisure and their convalescent 
weakness together have been productive of reveries. 

This same law of mind is illustrated by an expe- 
Thefr"origin riencc akin to reverie, — that is, by the dreaming 
which takes place in sleep. In this experience the 
exercise of the fantas}^ is more uninterrupted and complete than 
at any time during our waking hours. For this there are two 
reasons : first, the perception of external things is wholly, or 
in great measure, suspended during sleep, and so the influence 
of this perception to arrest and control the course of reproduc- 
tive thought is removed ; and, secondly, that peculiar condi- 
tion of inactivity which the brain assumes in sleep reduces the 
active energy of the soul more powerfully than fatigue, or lan- 
guor, or indolence, or any other cause which operates while we 
are awake. In verj' deep sleep mental action probably ceases 
entirely ; we are as devoid of thought and of sensation as when 
in a swoon. But in ordinary slumber those operations only are 
suspended which involve the more energetic action of the soul ; 
the movements of the fantasy, and such others as may prove of 
equal facility, continue. 



Chap.xliil] fantasy. 351 

The extent to which one^s powers of attention and discrimina- 
tion are suppressed in sleep is manifested in various ways, but 
especial!}' in the acceptance by the mind of its own fancies for 
realities, in our failure to discover and reject the absurdities 
which enter into the composition of our dreams, and in the 
incoherent thinkings often exhibited by those who are but par- 
tially awakened. That the condition of sleep is peculiarl}' favor- 
able to the exercise of fantasy is evident from the experience of 
all, but particularl}' from the fact that persons who show little or 
no play of imagination during their waking hours can often en- 
tertain us with an account of wonderful dreams and visions which 
have come to them during the night. Most men have witnessed 
stranger and greater things while asleep than the}' have ever 
been able to imagine when awake. 

Belief in '^^^ cxcrcise of belief in dreams arises from several 

dreams ac- causcs wMch act in conjunction with the suppression 
Pi""iss!>r^'^" ^f ^"^ more energetic modes of thinking. Professor 
Stewart's Stcwart ascribcs our delusion in dreaming to " a sus- 
pension of the influence of the will," including therein 
the suspension of " recollection and reasoning," as voluntary 
operations. But inasmuch as some part of our suppressed ac- 
tivity seems independent of the will, it may be more satisfactory 
to say that sleep suspends, not merely the volitional control of 
our faculties^ bid also every really powerful exercise of them^ 
whether voluntary or not. Such being the case, we are not 
onl}' liable to be imposed upon by a succession of images over 
which we have no control, and which in this respect resemble 
our actual perceptions, but, our ordinarv vigor of discrimination 
being lost, we are less able to judge respecting the real character 
of those images which pass before us. These causes, together 
with our separation from conscious contact with external objects, 
and from their stimulating and regulating influence, may account 
sufificientl}'^ for the delusiveness of dreams. 

Professor Stewart, though in a diflf'erent connection, adds an- 
other thought to the explanation of the delusiveness of dreams. 
He teaches that a momentary conviction of reality attends every 
exercise of the imaginative power ^ and that it is onlj' b}^ a judg- 
ment immediately consequent upon the imaginative act that this 
belief is corrected. But this doctrine can scarcely be maintained. 
We do not think that a painter who conceives the face and figure 
of an absent friend believes, for the moment, that his friend is 
with him. And however this may be with persons remarkably 
endowed, it is certain that ordinar}^ people do not believe that 
the absent friends or distant scenes and objects of which they 
may be thinking, really exist before them. The writer recalls 



352 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLIII. 

the appearances of two noble men, his uncles Hugh and John, 
without for a moment believing them to be present here in the 
land of the living. 

The truth is that the mind, when in the full normal exercise 
of its faculties, can judge immediately of the character of its 
passing states. When a sensation may be felt, and its external 
cause perceived in connection with it, this is recognized as a 
sense-perception. When the thought of former things is repro- 
duced, with belief in their past reality, this is accepted as re- 
membrance. And conceptions which occur without sensation, or 
presented object, or belief in the past, are known to be imagina- 
tions. These differences are understood at a very early age, 
probably at the very commencement of distinct thought. 

But while we cannot admit that momentary belief in things 
imagined is an original and constitutional principle, nor even an 
ordinar}^ rule, of mental action, we must allow that an involun- 
tary and irrational belief is frequently experienced ; and we 
account for this belief by the well-known tendency of the intel- 
lect to form instinctive habits of judgment. In this way, prin- 
cipally, we explain the fact, noticed by Dr. Reid, that " men 
Td^y be governed in their practice hy a belief which, in specula- 
tion, they reject. I knew a man," saj'S he, " who was as much 
convinced as any man of the foll}^ of the popular belief of appa- 
ritions in the dark ; yet he could not sleep in a room alone nor 
go into a room in the dark. Can it be said that his fear did not 
impl}^ a belief of danger? This is impossible. Here an unrea- 
sonable belief, which was merelj^ a prejudice of the nursery, 
stuck so fast as to govern his conduct, in opposition to his 
speculative belief as a philosopher and a man of sense." 

We are satisfied with this theory, that the belief was a 
*' prejudice of the nursery." 

Similar momentary delusions occur in connection with our 
acquired sense-perceptions and the methods of our daily occu- 
pations. And, certainl}^, if instinctive habits of judgment may 
cause momentary delusion during our waking hours, we may ex- 
pect them to cause a more perfect and prolonged delusion during 
sleep. The force of habit, therefore, is a cause which intensifies 
the operation of that alread}^ named, whereb}' conceptions, be- 
cause of their involuntary character or their complete occu- 
pation of our attention and interest, are sometimes mistaken for 
perceptions. 

Extraor- Although the general principle, that mental energy 

diiiary ^ is reduced during sleep, is supported b}^ too many 
acbtevements facts to admit of denial, certain phenomena are oc- 
accouatedfor.^jg^gjQjjg^lly obscrvcd which sccm to conflict with it. 



Chap. XLIIL] FANTASY. 353 

These phenomena exhibit results such as are ordinarily obtained 
by persistent mental effort. Persons have remembered things 
in dreams which they had vainly endeavored to recoUect while 
awake ; others have solved problems upon which the}" had been 
long pondering ; others have composed speeches and poems 
which the}" could afterwards recite. Condorcet, a name famous 
in the history of France, told some one that while he was en- 
gaged in abstruse calculations, he was frequently obliged to 
leave them in an unfinished state, in order to retire to rest ; 
and that the remaining steps and the conclusion of his calcula- 
tions have more than once presented themselves in his dreams. 
Franklin has made the remark that the bearings and results 
of political events which had caused him much trouble while 
awake, were not unfrequently unfolded to him in dreaming. 
And Mr. Coleridge says that as he was once reading in the 
"Pilgrimage of Purchas" an account of the palace and garden 
of Khan Kubla, he fell into a sleep, and in that situation com- 
posed an entire poem of not less than two hundred lines, some 
of which he afterward committed to writing. The poem is 
entitled "Kubla Khan," and begins as follows: — 

"In Zanadu did Kubla Khan 

A stately palace dome decree, 
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran, 
Through caverns measureless to man, 

Down to a sunless sea." 

Such experiences as these are not of common occurrence. 
They belong for the most part to minds of extraordinary tal- 
ent, and indicate the natural effortless workings of genius in 
some accustomed channel. The}^ occur while slumber is light 
and the brain in an excited condition. 

Moreover, the new insight occasionally obtained in dreams 
may be accounted for by the free play of the suggestive power 
about subjects with whose important relations the mind has be- 
come familiar. For it is well known that great discoveries, 
though not made without long study and research, have gen- 
erally flashed into the mind of the investigator at some unex- 
pected moment. Thus, by a happ}" intuition, Newton discovered 
gravitation, Archimedes the principle of specific gravity, and 
Goodyear the vulcanization of rubber. 

. Although sense-perception does not ordinarily take 

eiiceof sen- place in sleep, except to a limited extent in our lighter 
Seams ^" slumbers, the mind is not unconscious of various sen- 
sations, and is often influenced by them in the forma- 
tion of its dreams. Every one can remember instances of this 

23 



354 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLHI. 

phenomenon which have occurred within his own experience. 
Sometimes a noise indistincth^ heard suggests some violent 
occurrence ; or pressure upon one's person excites the idea of 
a struggle with an overmastering antagonist. Often an undi- 
gested supper produces incubus, or nightmare, in which one 
vainly attempts to escape from troubles and burdens by which 
he is surrounded and oppressed. 

" Dr. Gregory relates that, having occasion to apply a bottle 
of hot water to his feet, he dreamed that he was walking on 
Mount Etna, and found the heat insupportable. A person suf- 
fering from a blister applied to his head imagined that he was 
scalped by a party of Indians. A person sleeping in damp 
sheets dreamed that he was dragged through a stream. By leav- 
ing the knees uncovered, as an experiment, the dream was pro- 
duced that the person was travelhng by night in a diligence. 
Leaving the back part of the head uncovered, the person dreamed 
that he was present at a religious ceremony- in the open air. The 
smell of a smok}^ chamber has occasioned frightful dreams of 
being involved in conflagration. The scent of flowers may 
transport the dreamer to some enchanted garden, or the tones 
of music ma}' surround him with the excitements of a well- 
appointed concert." 

Theestima- ^^^ havc sccn, in the discussion on m^emor}', that 
tionoftime our estimates of time are for the most part founded 

reams. ^^ ^^^ experience of the duration of events, and are 
made by a habit of judgment in which transactions are accepted 
as indicating the time occupied by them. Such being the case, 
it is evident that a mistaken belief as to the realit}' of events 
will be naturally accompanied hy a corresponding delusion as to 
the passage of time. A deception is experienced analogous to 
that effect which is sometimes produced in connection with the 
sense of sight. 

" When I look into a show-box," says Professor Stewart, " if 
the representation be executed with so much skill as to convey 
to me the idea of a distant prospect, ever}' object before me 
swells its dimensions in proportion to the extent of space which 
I conceive it to occup}^ ; and what seemed before to be shut 
within the limits of a small wooden frame is magnified in my 
apprehension to an immense landscape of woods, rivers, and 
mountains." Moreover, since fantasies may succeed each other 
with great rapidity, a long series of events sometimes seems 
to transpire during a short dream. 



Chap. XLIV.] SOMNAMBULISM AND HALLUCINATION. 355 

CHAPTER XLIV. 

SOMNAMBULISM AND HALLUCINATION. 

Somnam- 1- The phenomena of the fantasy, in connection with 

buiism, a somnambulism, or abnormal sleep, are essentially the phe- 
theory of. nomena of dreaming modified by certain affections of the 
brain and nervous system. On the immediate nature of the action of 
this organ no one has ever yet thrown any light. We know that mental 
changes are conditioned on cerebral action. The function of the brain 
seems to be a regulative limitation imposed by creative wisdom upon 
the present exercise of our faculties. In ordinary sleep a general dor- 
mancy invades this whole organ. This dormancy admits of degrees, 
so that certain modes of psychical operation may continue, while others 
are totally or partially suppressed. If to this statement we add that 
some parts, or specific functions, of the brain may be affected with 
somnolency, while others are in an excited and active condition, we 
shall have a sufficient basis for a theory of somnambulism. 

Even in ordinary sleep our different faculties do not cease to act 
at once or equally. Cabanis, a French savant, after certain experi- 
ments, held tliat sight becomes quiescent first, then taste, then smell, 
then hearing, and, lastly, touch. This order probably is often de- 
parted from ; but the statement of Cabanis may be accepted as a gen- 
eral rule. Moreover, some of our senses sleep more profoundly than 
others. Often, when a loud noise will not awaken one, if the soles of 
his feet be tickled, or even if he be touched anywhere, he is imme- 
diately aroused. And our internal and vital sensations almost always 
exhibit some activity. 

Should we now suppose a special excitement of the brain in one 
part or function whereby psychical life in some one direction should 
be facilitated or stimulated, while in other directions our powers 
should cease to operate, this would explain the phenomena of som- 
nambulism, especially in cases where a cerebral excitement may have 
arisen in connection with an excitement of the mind itself; for in 
attempting to account for the singular modes of activity now under 
consideration, we must have regard to one's existing mental tendencies 
as well as to the cerebral conditions under which these act. 
Illustrated -^^^ instructive description of soninanibulism, as it is 
from Shak- ordinarily experienced, is to be found in Shakspeare's 
speare. account of the conduct of Lady Macbeth, after she and her 

husband had obtained the throne of Scotland through the foul murder 
of King Duncan. The great dramatist misses none of the essential 
features of the phenomenon, and therefore we shall quote at full length 
the passage to which we refer. It is the opening scene of the fifth act 
of the tragedy. 

Enter a Doctor of Physic and a Waiting-Gentlewoman. 

Doct. I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive no truth in your 
report. When was it she last walked? 



356 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLIV. 

Gen. Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, 
throw her nightgown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write 
upon't, read it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed; yet all' this Avhile in a 
most fast sleep. 

Doct. A great perturbation in nature, to receive at once the benefit of sleep, 
and do the effects of watching ! In this slumbery agitation, besides her walking 
and other actual performances, what, at any time, have you heard her say? 

Gen. That, sir, which I will not report after her. 

Doct. You may to me; and 't is most meet you should. 

Gen. Neither to you nor any one ; having no witness to confirm my speech. 

Enter Lady Macbeth, with a taper. 

Lo you, here she comes ! This is her very guise ; and, upon my life, fast asleep. 
Observe her; stand close. 

Doct. How came she by that light? 

Gen. Why, it stood by her : she has light by her continually ; 'tis her command. 

Doct. You see, her eyes are open. 

Gen. Ay, but their sense is shut. 

Doct. What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands ! 

Gen. It is an accustomed action with her, to seem thus washing her hands : I 
have known her continue in this a quarter of an hour. 

Lady M. Yet here 's a spot. 

Doct. Hark ! she speaks : I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my 
remembrance the more sti'ongly. 

Lady M. Out, damned spot! out, I say! — One: two: why, then 'tis time to 
do 't. — Hell is murky ! — Fie, my lord, fie ! a soldier, and afeard? What need we 
fear who knows it, when none can call our power to accountV — Yet who would 
have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? 

Doct. Do you mark that? 

Lady M. The thane of Fife had a wife : where is she now? — What, will these 
hands ne'er be clean? — No more o' that, my lord, no more o' that: you mar all 
with this starting. 

Doct. Go to, go to ; you have known what you should not. 

Gen. She has spoke what she should not,' I am sure of that : Heaven knows 
what she has known. 

Lady M. Here 's the smell of the blood still : all the perfumes of Arabia will 
not sweeten this little hand. — Oh, oh, oh ! 

Doct. What a sigh is there ! The heart is sorely charged. 

Gen. I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the dignity of the whole 
bodv. 

Doct. Well, well, well, — 

Gen. Pray God it be, sir I 

Doct. This disease is beyond my practice : yet I have known those which have 
walked in their sleep who have died holil}' in their beds. 

Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your nightgown; look not so pale. — I tell 
you 3-et again, Banquo 's buried; he cannot come out on's grave. 

Doct. Even so? 

Lndy M. To bed, to bed ! there 's knocking at the gate : come, come, come, come, 
give me your hand. What 's done, cannot be undone. — To bed, to bed, to bed ! 

Doct.''\Yi\\ she go now to bed ? 

Gen. Directly. 

Doct. Foul whisperings are abroad: unnatural deeds 
Do breed unnatural troubles; infected minds 
To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets. 

Analysis of T" *^^ foregoing scene let us note, first, that Lady Mac- 
theiilustra- beth is evidently sleeping. This agrees with the doctrine 
*^""* that somnambulism is nothing else than an unnatural or 

morbid sleep. 

In the next place, she has complete command of her limbs and 
bodily motions. She is able, not only to walk, but to dress, to take 



Chap. XLIV.] SOMNAMBULISM AND HALLUCINATION, 357 

up and carry a candlestick, to write, to speak, and, in short, to do 
whatever other action may be pertinent to that collection of concep- 
tions and delusions with which her mind is occupied. For som- 
nambulism is so called only because walking is the most notable 
performance of persons who may be thus aifected ; as a matter of fact, 
they show themselves capable of a variety of actions, though this 
capability is greater in some cases than in others. 

Jn the third place, Lady Macbeth exhibits a partial or limited exer- 
cise of the perceptive faculties. Her open eyes doubtless receive im- 
ages of the persons and objects about her. She apparently has the 
sensations of vision, but she perceives only those objects which are 
immediately related to her own internal activity. Her conduct re- 
sembles that of an obsequious courtier who, in the presence of a great 
man, is oblivious of the existence of all other persons. What mental 
energy she has is entirely engrossed in one way of thinking; none can 
spend itself in any other direction. She neither sees nor hears the 
doctor and the nurse. This limitation of perception is a significant 
feature in somnambulism, as those can testify who have looked into 
the bright yet vacant eyes of their friends who have been thus 
affected. 

Again, the thoughts of Lady Macbeth evidently run in a channel 
prepared for them by her previous experience. Persons who Malk in 
sleep do so usually after some excitement which they have encoun- 
tered, and their actions and words have reference to circumstances in 
which they have become deeply interested. 

Further, the incoherence of Lady Macbeth's utterances is notice- 
able. Each sentence has sense in itself, and relates to a common 
general subject; but it is not rightly connected with those that pre- 
cede and with those that follow. Here, also, Shakspeare reproduces 
Nature. Sometimes the sayings of the somnambulist may not be so 
inconsequent as those of Lady Macbeth ; but, as a rule, they do not 
yield any connected sense. 

Finally, it is clear that Lady Macbeth on the succeeding morning 
had no remembrance of her strange conduct ; this agrees with the ob- 
servation that somnambulists either entirely forget their eccentric 
performances, or remember them only as parts of a dream. 

Dr. Abercrombie tells the story of a young nobleman, living in the 
citadel of Breslau, who was observed by another boy, his brother, " to 
rise in his sleep, wrap himself in a cloak, and escape, by a window, 
to the roof of the building. He there tore in pieces a magpie's nest; 
wrapped the young birds in his cloak, returned to his apartment, and 
went to bed. In the morning he mentioned the circumstances as 
having occurred in a dream, and could not be persuaded that there 
had been anything more than a dream till he was shown the magpies 
in his cloak." The somnambulist probably does not differ from 
other dreamers with respect to the recollection of his performances 
during sleep. 

. Beside the somnambulism which we have now described, 

somnambu- ^"^ whicli may be regarded as that ordinarily experienced, 
lism, or mes- there are forms of the phenomenon which may be styled 
mensm. extraordinary, and which, for the purposes of discussion, 



358 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLIV. 

we shall distinguish into the magnetic and the ecstatic. The former 
of these is remarkable for its origin ; the latter for its exhibition of 
talent. Magnetic somnambulism is so named from the supposition 
that it is produced by a force somewhat similar to man^netism, and 
which therefore has been called animal magnetism. The doctrine 
has been taught that this force, being generated in connection with 
our corporeal functions, accumulates largely in some animals and 
persons, and can be emitted by them at their will, so as to control 
organizations specially liable to be affected by it. 

Dr. Francis Mesmer advocated this theory in France during the lat- 
ter part of the eighteenth century, and made it the basis of a system 
of therapeutics, which, after investigation by a governmental commis- 
sion, was rejected as of no value. Mesmer was quite successful in 
producing somnambulism by means of passes of the hand, and with 
the aid of apparatus addressed to the imagination, and suggestive of 
some mysterious influence ; since his time the term ' ' mesmerism ' ' 
has been applied to the theory and practice of his art. Although 
there is no evidence of the existence of any such thing as animal 
magnetism, it is certain that some persons can effect a wonderful 
change in the mental and bodily state of others who submit to be ma- 
nipulated by them. 

It is an established fact that when one is overcome by the mes- 
meric sleep, he becomes obtuse to all impressions save those which 
have relation to the operator; the very succession of his thoughts and 
actions follows the suggestion and guidance of the operator. From 
this it will be apparent that mesmeric sleep resembles ordinary som- 
nambulism in permitting only a limited exercise of the perceptive fac- 
ulties, but differs from it in being caused and controlled by an artificial 
influence. It seems to be the result of the action of a peculiar mental 
excitement upon a susceptible nervous system. 

In connection with the mesmeric sleep we may mention a similar 
phenomenon, which may also be regarded as of artificial origin. For 
some persons exhibit the power of putting themselves into a som- 
nambulistic condition, during which they develop trains of thought 
and. of speech on subjects with which they have become familiar. 
This power is sought and cultivated by those spiritualistic " medi- 
ums " who profess, by means of it, to put themselves into communi- 
cation with another world. 

That form of somnambulism which we have termed 
nambuUsm!^' ecstatic is a development of either the natural or the arti- 
ficial somnambulism, under conditions w^hich produce a 
remarkable exercise of one's gifts. " The somnambulist," says Pres- 
ident Porter, "sometimes displays great acuteness of judgment. He 
sees resemblances and differences which had not occurred to him in| 
his waking states, and which astonish lookers-on; he is quick in 
repartee, solves difficult questions ; he composes and speaks with 
method and effect; he reasons acutely; he interprets character withj 
Tare subtilty; he understands passing events with unusual insight; hei 
predicts those which are to come by skilful forecast; he appears to! 
be another person endowed with new gifts, or quickened by some 
extraordinary inspiration . ' ' 



Chap. XLIV.] SOMNAMBULISM AND HALLUCINATION. 359 

Dr. Porter qualifies this description afterwards by saying: " These 
efforts themselves are single and isolated sallies of subtilty and in- 
sight rather than sustained and connected trains of judgment and 
reasoning." He accounts for them by a special concentration and 
excitement of mind, during which one's thoughts are occupied with 
but few objects, and exercised in the line of his previous efforts and 
training. This ecstatic somnambulism resembles that wonderful 
dreaming in which intellectual feats have been easily accomplished, 
or in which, so to speak, they have accomplished themselves. It may 
sometimes indicate a genius which slumbers under the ordinary con- 
ditions of one's life. But as it is generally, if not always, accompa- 
nied with intense cerebral action, we are inclined to ascribe it chiefly 
to the stimulus given to our mental powers by a morbidly excited 
brain. 

The supernatural production and control of an ecstatic state, 
whereby one is rapt from earthly things and made the mouthpiece 
of celestial wisdom, is an important subject, which, however, lies 
beyond our present purpose. Such inspiration is a possibility; but it 
should not be assumed as a fact without sufficient evidence. 

In connection with ecstatic somnambulism we should notice some 
extraordinary claims made by those who practise the art of mes- 
merism. They assert that the somnambulist often sees objects in the 
profoundest darkness, and without the use of the ordinary organs of 
vision ; that he can behold places and persons on the other side of the 
globe as if he were there with them; and that he is able to divine 
the seat and cause of disease, and to foretell future events. So far as 
the perception of things distant or future is concerned, we may safely 
hold that nothing occurs beyond the deceptive imaginations of the 
dreaming state : the man who sees Lake Lucerne or Righi Kulm in a 
vision, only imagines what appearance the lake or the mountain would 
have if he saw them in reality. The mediumistic diagnosis of disease 
seems to be simply guesswork and quackery. But we allow that the 
sensitiveness of our organs, and of our minds in connection with them, 
is often quickened to a very great degree during somnambulism, so 
that sensation and perception may take place under conditions which 
would not ordinarily suffice for their production. 

In this way we explain such feats as those of Jane Rider, mentioned 
in Dr. Oliver's physiology. The eyes of this woman were securely 
bandaged with two large wads of cotton and a black silk handkerchief. 
" The cotton filled the cavity under the eyebrows, and reached down 
to the middle of the cheek; and various experiments were tried to 
ascertain whether she could see. In one of them a watch enclosed in 
a case w^as handed to her, and she was requested to tell what o'clock 
it was by it; upon which, after examining both sides of the watch, 
she opened the case, and then answered the question. She also read, 
without hesitation, the name of a gentleman written in characters so 
fine that no one else could distinguish it at the usual distance from 
the eye. In another paroxysm the lights were removed from her 
room, and the windows so secured that no object was discernible, and 
two books were presented to her, when she immediately told the titles 
of both, though one of them was a book which she had never before 



360 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLIV. 

seen." Occurrences like these have led some to conjecture that the 
soul may become independent of organs, and be able, even while in 
the body, to perceive objects wdthout the intervention of the senses. 
This view is not w^arranted by necessity. The theory of an ecstatic 
state of the powers of sense is to be preferred. 

2. The part which fantasy plays in producing those hallu- 
tious"""^ cinations and apparitions which sometimes substitute them- 
selves for realities, is to be distinguished from the operation 
of this power in connection with the delusions of dreaming. In the 
latter, deception results from a reduction of the energies of the soul, 
and the absence of the corrective influence of external perception ; but 
the hallucinations of sense mingle themselves with our veritable cog- 
nitions, and take place in spite of the exercise of a sound judgment 
and of our condemnation of them as fanciful. In this they resemble 
those errors of perception which spring from our instinctive habits of 
judgment. The principal cause of these hallucinations is a morbid 
condition of the organs of sense. 

When these organs become unnaturally susceptible, it is possible for 
the sensations appropriate to some object to be produced in them while 
the object itself is absent. This happens for the most part, we believe, 
through the influence of the fantasy, though it may result also from 
the stimulation of a reproductive tendency in the organ itself, under 
some physical excitement. In either case the sensible impression of 
the organ combines with the action of the intellect, and produces a 
phantasm, or image, which closely resembles an object of perception. 
Sometimes this phantasm is indistinct and transitory, as when, waking 
from feverish sleep, one may fancy that he sees and hears, when no 
real perceptions take place. These hallucinations are easily rejected, 
and are soon forgotten ; but when, through the strength of disease, 
apparitions become vivid and stable, sober discrimination is needed to 
perceive that they are merely mental images, — 

'* False creations, 
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain." 

When the power of discrimination is wholly lost, as it is in delirium 
and insanity, the deception becomes complete and prolonged. We 
remember the conduct of a poor lieutenant whom we visited in his hut 
during the late war, and who was suffering from delirium tremens. 
" These, sir," he said, pointing here and there about him, " are the 
reptiles that are going to devour me." Then, springing up, he rushed 
out into the company street, seized whatever missiles came to hand, 
and flung them, with all his force, at the doors, corners, and chimneys 
of the huts of his comrades, and wherever else he could spy his im- 
aginary tormentors. 

The"'fact that sense-hallucinations attack those who are addicted to 
the habitual use of spirituous liquors, or of opium. Cannabis Indica, or 
some other narcotic stimulant, shows that this phenomenon has its 
principal origin in a disorder of the nerves. Generally the beginning 
and the ending of every experience of hallucinations can be con- 
nected with some physical cause. Two cases, chiefly remarkable for 
being scientifically recorded, may illustrate the origin of hallucinations. 



Chap. XLIV.] SOMNAMBULISM AND HALLUCINATION. 361 

_.. ,. The first, which is reported in the *' Edinburgh Medical 

Journal," is that of a citizen of Kingston-on-Hull. This 
man had a quarrel with a drunken soldier who attempted to enter his 
house, during which " the soldier drew his bayonet and struck him 
across the temples, dividing the temporal artery. He had scarcely 
recovered from the effects of a great loss of blood on this occasion, 
when he undertook to accompany a friend in his walking-match against 
time, during which he went forty-two miles in nine hours. Elated by 
his success, he spent the whole of the following day in drinking. The 
result of these things was an affection, probably an inflammation, of 
the brain ; and the consequence of this was the existence of those 
vivid states of mind which are termed apparritions. Accordingly, our 
shop-keeper (for that was his calling) is reported to have seen articles 
of sale upon the floor, and to have beheld an armed soldier entering 
his shop, when there was nothing seen by other persons present. In a 
word, he was for some time constantly haunted by a variety of spec- 
tres, or imaginary appearances; so much so, that he even found it 
difficult to determine which were real customers and which were mere 
phantasms of his own mind." 

The other case — that of Nicolai, a distinguished Prussian bookseller 
— is preserved in a memoir read by himself before the Royal Society of 
Berlin, on the 28th of February, 1799. Mr. Nicolai was a person of 
utiusual intelligence and of vivid imagination, and at the time of the 
occurrence of the hallucinations, had been agitated by a great trouble. 
"My wife," he says, "came into my apartment in the morning to 
console me, but I was too much agitated to be capable of attending to 
her. On a sudden I perceived, at about the distance of ten steps, a 
form like that of a deceased person. I pointed at it, asking my wife 
if she did not see it. My question alarmed her very much, and she 
immediately sent for a physician. The phantom continued about 
eight minutes. I grew more calm, and, being extremely exhausted, 
fell into a restless sleep, which lasted half an hour. At four in the 
fiternoon, the form which I had seen in the morning reappeared. I 
was by myself when this happened, and, being uneasy at the incident, 
went to my wife's apartment; there, likewise, I was persecuted by the 
apparition, which, however, at intervals disappeared, and always pre- 
sented itself in a standing posture. About six o'clock there appeared, 
also, several walking figures, which had no connection with the first. 

*' After the first day the form of the deceased person no more appeared, 
but its place was supplied with many other phantoms, sometimes rep- 
resenting acquaintances, but mostly strangers; those whom I knew 
were composed of living and deceased persons, but the number of the 
latter was comparatively small. The persons with whom I daily con- 
versed did not appear as phantoms. These appearances were equally 
clear and distinct at all times and under all circumstances, both when 
I was by myself and when I was in company, as well in the day as in 
the night, and in my own house as well as abroad. They were less 
frequent when I was in the house of a friend, and rarely appeared to 
me in the street. When I shut my eyes they would sometimes vanish 
entirely, though there were instances when I beheld them with my eyes 
closed; yet when they disappeared on such occasions, they generally 
returned when I opened my eyes. All these phantasms appeared to 



362 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XL V. 

me in their natural size, and as distinct as if alive, exhibiting different 
shades of carnation in the uncovered parts, as well as different colors 
and fashions in their dresses, though the colors seemed somewhat paler 
than in real Nature. The longer they visited me, the more frequently 
did they return; and they increased in number about four weeks after 
they first appeared. 

" I also began to hear them talk ; they sometimes conversed among 
themselves, but more frequently addressed their discourse to me. Some- 
times I was accosted by these consoling friends while I was in com- 
pany, and not uiil'requently while real persons were speaking to me." 

In both the foregoing cases it is to be remarked that although the 
hallucinations were involuntary, and could neither be banished nor 
recalled at pleasure, their true character became speedily and perfectly 
known to the persons who suffered from them. In both cases blood- 
letting was found an effectual remedy. 

The exercise of fantasy is a prominent feature in most forms of 
insanity, as those know who have listened to the amazing claims and 
wild vagaries of madmen. This is the natural result of that distrac- 
tion and dissipation of energy, and that loss of the power of attentive 
judgment, w^hich. are the essential elements of mental derangement. 
The false beliefs of madness arise from the distraction and dissipation, 
just as the delusions of dreaming result from the suspension or reduc- 
tion, of our mental vigor. 



CHAPTER XLV. 
THE POETIC IMAGINATION. 

1. Imagination is distinguishable from mere fantasy by rea- 
son of that special exercise of judgment which it involves. In 
imagination the mind always aims to form for itself objects in, 
the contem^plation of which some end of pleasure^ knowledge^ 
xisefid direction^ or practical influence may he promoted. The 
elements of those conceptions which are presented by the sug- 
gestive power are chosen or rejected according to their fitness 
to serve the end. Hence the faculty of imagination, like that of 
reasoning, involves a voluntary control of our thinking powers. 
Dr. Brown imperfectly expresses this truth by sajing that the 
higher imagination is a combination of association or suggestion 
with intention or desire. 

The comparatively insignificant place which has been granted 
to imagination, in most metaphysical writings, is to be accounted 
for partl}^ because philosophers have .been mainly interested in 
those operations by which truth and knowledge are secured, 
and partl}^ because there is not much in the theorj^ of the im- 
agination to exercise philosophical acumen and subtilty. 



Chap. XLV.] THE POETIC IMAGINATION. 363 

This faculty, nevertheless, is an essential part of the constitu- 
tion of the mind. Were man's thoughts confined exclusively to 
memories of the past and cognitions of the present, together 
with such views of the future as can be obtained from accurate 
inference, life would be a dull affair indeed. But now bright 
hopes animate our efforts, lofty ideals present themselves for 
our realization, and gentle fancies soften the rough realities with 
which they mingle ; thus we are solaced in the midst of cares, 
and are beckoned onward in the pursuit of noble ends. 

Although imagination belongs to all men, it is a 
ax\m^\!\y\I gift granted to some in vastl}' more abundant measure 
pre-eminent- xha,n to othcrs. For men differ more as to their men- 

ly by some. 

tal than as to their bodily endowments. The distance 
between a stupid clown and a cultured, educated genius is 
greater than that between a feeble gentleman and a practised 
athlete. Persons remarkable for imagination commonly possess 
quick and livel}^ sensibilities. This partlj^ results from the vivid- 
ness of their conceptions, but it also stimulates and increases 
their abihty to form such conceptions ; for this reason the 
natural difference of persons in imaginative power becomes 
greatly increased as their minds and characters develop. 

The faculty of imagination sometimes works on its own 
account ; that is, it creates scenes and objects simply for the 
satisfaction of surveying them. At other times its operations 
are subservient to purposes more remote than any included in 
this satisfaction. We cannot do better than to consider it, 
first in the one, and then in the other, of these relations. 
The poetic ^* '^^^^ development of imagination which elabor- 
imagination. atcs mental objccts for the satisfaction of survejing 
Thetancy, -f^j^gj^j^ jjjg^y \^q distinguished as the poetic imagination. 

When exercised with little rational control, without an}^ at- 
tempt at a serious and systematic work, and simply for the 
purpose of providing i)leasing images, it is often called the 
fancy., — a name which implies that this is a mode of thought 
not far removed from simple fantas3\ 

The poetic imagination, again, with reference to two well- 
known developments of genius that depend upon it, may be 
subdivided into the poetic imagination proper and the artistic 
imagination. 

Poetry and art are pursuits of a kindred nature, yet easily 
contrasted with one another. The thought of the former ex- 
presses itself in language ; that of the latter is embodied in 
painting, music, statuar3^, and whatever other material things 
may be made to exhibit the pleasing and the impressive. 

The sphere of poetry is vastly more e;stensive than that of art. 



364 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLV. 

Language can utter, with wonderful exactness, whatever the 
mind conceives : everj' change and turn of events, every motive 
and thought, affection and desire, of the heart, can be made 
known in befitting words. But the productions of art, how- 
ever skilfully constructed, set forth only the outer side of things, 
and leave more unsaid than they express. At the same time 
works of art, in appealing to our senses, and not to our minds 
alone, are better calculated than poetry to produce a strong 
Immediate effect. 

The objects which the poet and the artist endeavor to prepare 
for our contemplation are, in the first place, the beautiful and 
the sublime ; the former comprising whatever may be pleasant 
to contemplate either in itself or both in itself and its associa- 
tions^ and the latter being that lohich conveys the suggestion of 
power and greatness. In addition to these objects, whatever 
may move and interest the heart is delineated. For, to use a 
phrase of Hamilton's, the productions of both art and poetry are 
'' exclusive^ calculated on effect." 

The external conditions favorable for the develop- 
conditions mcut of One of thcsc pursuits differ from those in 
^^p<*®try which the other flourishes. Both require a tiuie of 
comparative peacefulness, when the minds of men are 
not occupied with wars and civil commotions. But poetrj' de- 
lights in an age characterized by simplicitj' of life and manners, 
in which the spirit of men is unconventional and easil}^ im- 
pressed, and in which the memory of great achievements and 
the desire to emulate them are fresh and vigorous. The poet 
then gives shape and expression to the sentiments which burn 
within his own breast and those of others. Art, on the other 
hand, waits for times of greater repose, and is roused to exertion 
when the extension of a cultivated taste, the facilities for artis- 
tic work, and the accumulation of wealth create the demand 
for meritorious productions, and encourage those whose genius 
can supply the demand. As a rule, the great poets in every 
countr}' precede the great artists. "We allow that the power 
of genius is wonderful in every age and in ever}' condition of 
society ; but without opportunity^, even genius can accomplish 
nothing of value, and, in general, favorable times are needed 
for any grand achievement. 

Versification, ^^ ^^ noticeable that the poetry of every language 
reason for. 'employs versification, or rather is composed in lines 
Poetic labor. ^^ ^ length and accentuation more or less regular. 
This ma}" have been adopted at first to assist memorization, but 
must be chiefl}" ascribed to a natural fitness of rhythmical lan- 
guage to be the instrument of poetical expression. The ear 



Chap. XLV.] THE POETIC IMAGINATION. 365 

delights in that regularity of intonations which is produced 
by the observance of metrical rules, while a higher sense is 
pleased by the skill which makes the accentuation of the verse 
and the emphasis of the thought coincident with each other. 
These remarks may be illustrated from any well-composed 
poem. Let us take the following stanza from a hymn of 
Addison, — 

" How are thy servants blest, O Lord ! 
How sure is their defence ! 
Eternal wisdom is their guide ; 
Their help, Omnipotence ! " 

or this, from another hj^mn by the same author, — 

" The spacious firmament on high. 
With all the blue ethereal sky, 
And spangled heavens, a shining frame, 
Their great Original proclaim." 

These stanzas would lose much of their beauty if they were 
changed into the language of prose. 

This leads us to say that the composition of poetry, even for 
those who are capable of it, is a more laborious task than is 
commonl}' supposed. Doubtless, when one is in the proper 
spirit, the work is not irksome ; yet it involves earnest and per- 
severing application. There is always that kind of effort which 
one puts forth in an3' business which deeply interests him. This 
view is confirmed by the experience even of those poets who 
have been most perfectly the children of Nature. Robert Burns 
says, — 

" The muse, nae poet ever fand her, 
Till by himsel' lie learn'd to wander 
Adown some trotting burn's meander, 

An' no think lang ; 
Oh, sweet, to stray an' pensive ponder 
A heartfelt sang ! " 

And the following passage from the correspondence of Burns 
proves that his songs were not hurriedly got up, but composed 
with the utmost care and appUcation. ' Until I am complete 
master of a tune in ray own singing," he writes, " I can never 
compose for it. M3' way is this : I consider the poetic sentiment 
correspondent to m}'^ idea of the musical expression, then choose 
my theme, compose one stanza. When that is composed, which 
is generally the most difficult part of the business, I walk out, 
sit down now and then, look out for objects in Nature round 
me that are in unison or harmony with the cogitations of my 
fancy and workings of my bosom, humming every now and then 



366 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLV. 

the air, with the verses I have framed. When I feel my muse 
beginning to jade, I retire to the fireside of my study, and there 
commit my effusions to paper, swinging at intervals on the hind 
legs of my elbow chair, by wa}^ of calling forth my own critical 
strictures as my pen goes. This, at home, is almost invariably 
my way." 

Poetical exertions cannot be maintained with that regularity 
which serves a good end in ordinary business ; creative genius 
must often wait till the muse is willing, — that is, till one's mind 
is filled with fresh fervor and activity ; but still it is true that 
the work of the poet engages all the energies of his soul. 

Moreover, after the song may have been first produced, the 
labor of revision and emendation equals that of the original 
composition. This task was diligently performed by the most 
famous poets of both ancient and modern times ; and it has 
imparted to their productions a perfection which all succeeding 
ages must admire and emulate. 

We need not discuss that exercise of talent which produces 
novels and similar works of fiction ; it is of the same radical 
nature with the poetic facult3\ But it appeals less to the sense 
of the beautiful and more to our curiosit3\ 

The artistic ^' '^^^ artistic imagination follows the same gen- 
imagination. cral methods and the same general aims as the poetic, 
true fiinSn ^^^^ ^^ distinguished from it by the fact that it is 
ofimagina- directed to a more specific work. The painter, the 
sculptor, and the composer of music aim to produce 
beautiful and engaging things by the emplo^^ment of material 
means ; and in order to do so, they form mental conceptions of 
the things which they would produce. Persons of ordinarj^ gifts 
cannot make much progress in these pursuits. Originality in art 
calls for a great endowment of taste and talent. The "Nascitiir 
non fit," of Horace, appHes even more emphatically to the artist 
than to the poet. Assiduitj^ may make a respectable copjist ; 
only Nature produces the creative genius. Hence those who 
have attained distinction b}^ artistic achievements have found 
themselves attracted to art by a power which has compelled 
them to reject and forsake every other occupation. 

That imaginary object which the artist endeavors to realize 
is called his ideal. In general, ideals are objects which one im- 
agines and endows^ to the best of his ability^ with every excellence 
suitable to their nature^ and with which, as standards^ he com- 
pares things really existing or in the process of production. 
While these concepta belong to every mode of the productive 
imagination, they are most consciously^ emploj^ed in the arts of 
painting and sculpture. The ideals of the poet and of the 



Chap. XLV.] TEE POETIC IMAGINATION. 367 

musical composer are immediately embodied in their verses and 
melodies ; those of the scientific thinker are surrounded b3' man}^ 
other thoughts which equallj^ occup}^ his attention. The plans 
of the ordinary mechanic or man of business are but roughly 
sketched, and must be modified according to the course of cir- 
cumstances ; our conceptions of dut}^ are very abstract, and are 
rather referred to than contemplated ; but the designs of the 
painter and the sculptor are long retained in memory as the 
objects which they desire to express in their productions. At 
the same time it is evident that ideals are formed and fol- 
lowed, not onl}' by all artists and poets, but also by every one 
who imagines for himself things excellent and perfect. 

The doctrine which sets forth the origin and character of ideals 
is one of ver}^ general bearing. The essential point m this doc- 
trine is that ideals are entirely new creations or constructions of 
the mind., and are not merely copies of objects presented to us hy 
Nature. Genius conceives of things such as never existed, and 
produces objects more beautiful and perfect than anj^ to be found 
in the natural world. That theory which asserts Art to be simply 
a reproduction of Nature cannot be sustained. The Venus of 
Milo and the Apollo Belvedere are not copies of any forms that 
ever were seen, but are more perfect than an}-. The wonderful 
music of Mozart, Beethoven, and Mendelssohn is the expression 
of harmonies never heard before, and whose birthplace was within 
the soul of the composer. It is the duty of Art to improve upon 
Nature. Even Eden, when Adam was put there "to dress" the 
garden, was not so perfect that it could not be improved b}^ skill 
and care. Art reduces the redundancies, supplies the defects, 
heightens the charms, and unites the attractions which are to be 
found in natural scenes and objects. 

Therefore it is quite inaccurate to say that the function of the 
imagination is merely to recompose, in some new wa}^, objects or 
parts of objects which have been previously perceived. The 
work of this power includes not sirnply the partition and com- 
position of objects., hut that more searching and perfect sepa- 
ration and combination which we call analysis and synthesis^ 
and which, in their fullest development, become abstraction and 
conception. Dr. Porter rightly remarks : " The lines and shapes 
of grace which have been copied in marble or drawn upon canvas, 
in respect of delicacj^ of transition and ease of movement, far 
surpass those of any living being or actuall}^ existing thing. 
They are suggested b}-, but are not copied from, any such beings 
or things. The story that the Grecian painter assembled from 
every quarter the most celebrated beauties, that he might borrow 
some charm from each, could never have been true." 



-368 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XL V. 

When Professor Stewart says that Milton did not copy his 
Eden from any one scene, but selected the most beautiful fea- 
tures from the most beautiful scenes with which he was familiar, 
we are to understand that, however this or that prospect may 
have contributed some grace to the imaginary Eden, this was 
only by furnishing a fruitful suggestion, in which the plastic mind 
of Milton found material for its work. That work itself was a 
S3'nthesis of elemental conceptions in which shapes and colors, 
sizes and distances, sounds and motions, uniformities and diver- 
sities, were first modified at will, and then combined into one 
harmonious scene, so as most to please the taste. 

This wonderful power, which out of old material makes things 
wholl}^ new, is 3'et more evidently displa3'ed in that description 
which Milton gives of Satan's dreadful home ; where 

" Round he threw his baleful eyes. 
That witnessed huge affliction and dismay, 
Mixed with obdurate pride and steadfast hate. 
At once, as far as angels ken, he views 
The dismal situation waste and wild. 
A dungeon, horrible on all sides round. 
As one great furnace, flamed. Yet from those flames, 
No light ; but ratlier darkness visible 
Served only to discover sights of woe. 
Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace 
And rest can never dwell; hope never comes. 
That comes to all : but torture without end 
Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed 
With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed. 

There the companions of his fall, o'erwhelmed 
With floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire, 
He soon discerns." 

This description was not copied from any scenes that Milton 
ever saw. If one can understand how ideal creations are thus 
formed, different in every part from objects pre^dously perceived, 
and surpassing them in excellence or beaut}- or grandeur, 
he has mastered the principal point in the philosoph}- of the 
imagination. 

Law limitiiT' "^"^ while Originative genius is not merely a repro- 
theworkof°ductive and compositive, but a plastic and creative, 
arr^^Condi- power, it is to be noted that poetry and art are under 
tionsofsuc- the necessity of maintaining a certain analogy with 
Nature. Thej^ must take those scenes and objects 
which are witnessed in the real world as the basis of tlieir new 
creations. Ideal excellence can be obtained only by the imagi- 
native development of that which really exists, and it can aflfect 
the soul only as having a certain verisimiUtude — that is, as 



Chap. XLV.] THE POETIC IMAGINATION. 369 

having an essential agreement -with realit}' — in those features 
which are to engage our admiration and excite our sensibilities. 

The sphere of poetrj^ and art, therefore, being confined to 
classes of scenes and courses of events similar to those which 
actually affect our lives, is not so extensive as that which we may 
assign to the imagination simpl}^ 

Hence it is plain that natural abilit}' is not of itself sufficient 
for success in these pursuits. The mind must be stored with 
knowledge suitable to furnish suggestion in the kind of work that 
is to be performed ; for this reason the productions of the most 
original genius are always formed upon previous experience and 
acquisitions. The following remarks by a great painter, on 
this point, are worthy of remembrance. " Invention," said Sir 
Joshua Reynolds, in a discourse before the Eojal Academ}', 
" is one of the great marks of genius ; but if we consult expe- 
rience, we shall find that it is b}' being conversant with the in- 
ventions of others that we learn to invent, as b}' reading the 
thoughts of others we learn to think. It is in vain for painters 
or poets to endeavor to invent without materials on which the 
mind ma}^ work, and from which invention must originate. 
Nothing can come of nothing. Homer is supposed to have 
been possessed of all the learning of his time ; and we are cer- 
tain that Michael Angelo and Raphael were equally possessed 
of all the knowledge in the art, which had been discovered in 
the works of their predecessors." 

Theinflu- ^^ need not dwell on the humanizing and ele- 
enceofart vating influence of poetical and artistic pursuits upon 
and poetry. ^^^ character of an}' people who ma}' cherish them. 
The better productions of imaginative genius awaken the nobler 
susceptibilities of our nature, and urge us to the attainment of 
all honorable possibilities. They exert an influence greatly to 
be desired, both in its pubhc and in its private operation. In 
the ruder ages of societ}^, 

" Tlie sacred name 
Of poet and of prophet were the same ; ** 

the bard was regarded with religious reverence. " Among the 
Scandinavians and the Celtse," saj's Professor Stewart, " this 
order of men w^as held in ver}' peculiar veneration ; and accord- 
ingly it would appear, from the monuments which remain of 
these nations, that they were distinguished by a delicacy in the 
passion of love, and by a humanit}' and generosity to the van- 
quished in war, which seldom appear among barbarous tribes, 
and with which it is hardly possible to conceive how men in 
such a state of society could have been inspired, but by a 

24 



370 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XL VL 

separate class of individuals in the community who devoted 
themselves to the pacific profession of poetr}'.'* 

The influence of the works of genius was illustrated also in 
the life of the ancient Athenians. " Among the Greeks," says 
an eloquent writer, " wherever the eyes were cast, the monu- 
ments of glor}^ were to be found. The streets, the temples, the 
galleries, the porticos, all gave lessons to the citizens. Every- 
where the people recognized the images of its great men ; and 
beneath the purest sk}^ in the most beautiful fields, amid groves 
and sacred forests, and the most brilliant festivals of a splendid 
religion, — surrounded with a crowd of orators and artists and 
poets, who all painted or modelled or celebrated or sang their 
compatriot heroes, — marching, as it were, to the enchanting 
sounds of poetry and music that were animated with the same 
spirit, — the Greeks, victorious and free, saw and felt and 
breathed nothing but the intoxication of glory and immortality." 

In modern times poetical and artistic productions do not 
exert so great an influence as they once did. Philosophy, sci- 
ence, history, and the practical pursuits of an advanced civihza- 
tion engross the minds of men, and render them less susceptible 
to aesthetic influences. Nevertheless it is the part of wisdom to 
cherish the poet and the artist, and to encourage labors which, 
when rightly directed, tend to the elevation and refinement of 
our race. 



CHAPTER XLVI. 

THE PHILOSOPHICAL IMAGINATION. 

1. We now turn to those uses of the imagination which are less ex- 
clusively connected with its own nature, and which do not belong dis- 
tinctively to the reproductive phase of thought, but must be regarded 
either as occupying a middle ground or as forming parts of the dis- 
cursive phase. With reference to these uses, three different modes of 
the imagination may be distinguished and characterized. They may 
be named the speculative, or scientific ; the practical, or ethical; and the 
incentice, or motive. 

Exercising the first of these, we form conceptions of fact or possi- 
bility, so as to assist our understanding of truth ; using the second, we 
fashion plans and ideals for our practical realization ; and employing 
the third, we stimulate our desires by placing before them definite 
aims and aspirations. The practical and the incentive imagination 
are fully considered in ethical writings, and in discussions relating to 



Chap. XL VI.] THE PHILOSOPHICAL IMAGINATION. 371 

the various forms of human motivity and effort. Our present study 
therefore may properly be limited to the philosophical imagination ; this 
specially belongs to the domain of mental science. 

Those who are accustomed to regard scientific discovery and inven- 
tion as the peculiar and crowning work of man's reasoning faculties, 
may be surprised to hear that success in these labors depends greatly 
on the exercise of the imaginative power. We naturally surrender the 
ideal world to Homer and Virgil, Shakspeare and Milton, Dickens, 
DeFoe, and other kindred spirits; we regard Aristotle, Euclid, Kepler, 
Newton, Davy, Faraday, Agassiz, and the like, as men whose minds 
are wholly conversant about fact and reality. 

But the truth is that philosophic investigation, which discovers the 
laws of Nature, and scientific invention, which discovers the modes 
in which these laws may be usefully applied, can make no progress 
without a vigorous employment of constructive and creative thought. 
This may not ordinarily be called imagination ; it is certainly to be 
distinguished from that exercise of genius which the poet displays; 
yet it is of the same generic nature with this, and differs from it only 
because its operation is modified and controlled in the interest of a 
peculiar end, — namely, the rational pursuit of truth. We therefore 
discuss the scientific imagination in connection with the poetic, and 
regard both as developments of that one comprehensive faculty which 
has been called the productive imagination. 

The scientific ^* ^^^ same time we need not adopt an extreme infer- 
compared ence from this doctrine, which some make. It has been 
with the taught that philosophic is so nearly allied to poetic talent 
natioii.^^Phi- ^^at the same man may be expected to distinguish himself 
losop])ical in both lines of effort, or at least to have the ability to do 
inveniiou. g^^ "j^j^q philosophic imagination endeavors to form correct 
conceptions of the working of causes as these operate in Nature, so 
that, by means of such conceptions, the operations of Nature may be 
anticipated and understood. In this mode of thought we are at lib- 
erty to imagine only what may naturally exist or happen under condi- 
tions which may naturally exist. We build upon fact, and employ the 
known elements and laws of actual existence so far as these may be 
applicable; and where they no longer apply, we still follow, as closely 
as possible, the analogy of Nature, and carefully shun whatever may 
conflict with real possibility. The poetic imagination, on the con- 
trary, regards possibility only so far as not to offend by evident absur- 
dity, and seeks conformity to Nature only in those features which may 
excite our sympathy and interest. Philosophic genius cares neither 
for the beautiful nor the affecting, but for the true and the probable ; 
it may even co-exist with a very moderate sense of what is tasteful and 
pleasing; it avoids the weakening of scientific discourse by much aes- 
thetic illustration. But the spirit of poetry delights in the graceful, 
the beautiful, the touching, the w^onderful, the sublime, and aims at 
no other end than the production of such objects. It is plain that the 
disposition and habit of mind proper to the philosopher differ from, 
and even somewhat conflict with, those characteristic of the poet. A 
cpn junction of the two forms of genius in one mind is not a thing to 
be expected, but rather the reverse; and, in point of fact, it would be 



372 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XL VI. 

hard to find any instance in which the same person was eminent both 
as a poet and as a philosopher. 

2. That form of imagination employed in speculative thought is 
sometimes known as philosophical invention, the term " invention " in 
this phrase being used in a wide sense, so as to include purely theo- 
retical conjecture, as well as that which looks towards practice. This 
mode of imagination is always completed by supposing the object of 
it to be fact, — that is, by distinctly uniting the idea of existence with 
that of the thing invented. Therefore the products of it, commonly, 
and with reference to their use, are called suppositions. For the ra- 
tional faculty deals with, and conceives of, things only as subject to 
the laws of actual existence. 

Different modes of philosophical invention may be distinguished 
according to the different ends for which suppositions are employed. 
These ends are three in number, — first, the discovery and ascertainment 
of truth ; secondly, the application of truth, in deduction from things pos- 
sible, and in useful invention; and, thirdly, the explanation and illustration 
of truth. These aims are not pursued in separation: they are so re- 
lated that the attainment of one is often an important step in the 
prosecution of another; yet a special exercise of imagination, which 
belongs to each, may be distinctly conceived. 

ima ■- "^^^ philosopher is chiefly concerned with that mode of 
iiadoifoP" invention which seeks the discovery of truth. This is that 
discovery. which he himself employs; it is that, also, which calls most 
SiTsupp^osi- ^^^ elucidation and discussion. The thought constructions 
tioii distin- to which it gives rise are distinguished from other supposi- 
d"tin ^d^ ^^^ tions by the name "hypothesis." Originally, the terms " hy- 
pothesis " and " supposition," as their formation indicates, 
had the same meaning. They denoted those constructions of the imagi- 
native power which we employ to explain phenomena, and in which 
causes and conditions are figuratively placed under those observed 
facts which are believed to rest or depend upon them. 

This specific meaning is now retained by the word "hypothesis," 
which signifies a supposition used for the purpose of explaining phe- 
nomena, and, in connection with that, of showing its own truth or 
probability. For any hypothesis which rationally accounts for fact 
may be true; and if it be the only hypothesis by which the fact can be 
explained, it must be true. Supposition, on the other hand, has as- 
sumed the more general sense of imagining a thing to be fact, with 
reference to something which would follow if it were fact, whether 
that thing be the explanation of phenomena and the ascertainment of 
causes or not. When we speak of a supposition, we emphasize the con- 
ceived existence of the thing supposed; but in the idea of an hypothe- 
sis, the emphasis rests on the explanatory relation of the thing sup- 
posed to the facts immediately perceived. These remarks exhibit the 
reason on account of which a scientific conception, even though designed 
for purposes of explanation, is not commonly called an hypothesis, 
unless its explanatory value be immediately taken into account. 

We should note, in passing, that the peculiar and specific meaning 
of the noun "hypothesis" is not always retained by the adjective 
"hypothetical." An hypothetical case is simply a supposed case; an 



chap.xlvl] the philosophical imagination. 373 

hypothetical syllogism means a syllogism in which one fact is supposed 
as the antecedent, not as the explanation, of another. 
The twofold While every hypothesis has a double end in view, — namely, 
use of hy- to account for facts, and to ascertain whether the supposed 
pothesis. cause exist or not, — some hypotheses aim more at the for- 
mer, and others at the latter, of these ends. The famous speculation of 
Laplace respecting the origin and movement of planetary bodies is in- 
teresting chiefly as an explanation of phenomena. He conjectured 
that the atmosphere of the sun originally extended beyond the present 
limits of the solar system, and that planets were formed by the cooling 
and condensation of successive rings of fiery vapor, their orbital motion 
being caused by a combination of their centrifugal force with the cen- 
tripetal attraction of the sun, and their diurnal motion by similar 
forces operating within each separate mass of matter. Scientific 
theories, in general, are principally valuable as explanatory of fact. 

On the other hand, those hypotheses which are made in the course 
of judicial proceedings are mainly intended to show the truth or false- 
hood of the hypothesis itself. In a trial for murder, it was shown that 
a certain money-lender was discovered one morning in a wood beaten 
to death, and that this individual and the prisoner had entered that 
wood together the previous evening. It also appeared that the accused 
was a person of bad character, and had been a debtor to the murdered 
man in a considerable amount. The prosecution advocated the hy- 
pothesis that the prisoner had committed the crime in order to free 
himself from debt. The counsel for defence argued that the murder 
might have been committed by some other man. The jury found that 
the facts could be explained only on the hypothesis of the prisoner's 
guilt; and the man was executed. In this case the important ques- 
tion concerned, not the explanation of fact, but the correctness of 
the hypothesis. 

Theory de- Those systematic views of phenomena and their condi- 
fined and tions, as mutually related, which hypotheses enable us to 
character- form, are called theories. A theory differs from an hy- 
pothesis in being more comprehensive, — it includes, in 
one view, both fact and explanation. The conception of it, also, is 
less suggestive of unreality. One's theory of a phenomenon is a view 
confirmed by investigation and accepted with more or less confidence. 
His h3^pothesis respecting a phenomenon is a conjecture yet to be 
tested, and which may prove incorrect. While, therefore, these terms 
are allied, and may sometimes exchange places with each other, there 
is a difference. In particular, after an hypothesis may have been 
fully verified, we incline to speak no longer of it, but of the theory 
established by it 

Before Newton's time, three laws of planetary motion had been dis- 
covered through the observations of Kepler. These were that the 
radius vector of a planet describes equal areas in equal times, that 
the path of every planet is an ellipse, and that the squares of the times 
of revolution of the different planets vary as the cubes of their mean 
distances from the sun. Newton conjectured that a force directed 
towards the centre of the sun, and varying inversely as the square of 
the distance from that point, would produce these phenomena; and 



374 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XL VI. 

he was able to demonstrate that this was the only force which could 
produce them. Therefore, now, we speak not of the Newtonian hy- 
pothesis, but of the Newtonian theory, of solar attraction, or of uni- 
versal gravitation. 

. At the same time any digested view of fact, or of what 

id^eaiization. ^1^7 be assumed as fact, considered as united with its ex- 
Tiie reason planation, is properly termed a theory; and, indeed, the 
^^^^- imaginative character of our hypotheses is often remark- 

ably exhibited in those theories which originate from them. For 
not only many theories have been constructed wholly by the imagi- 
nation, with no aid from reason, and no reference to the analogy 
of Nature, but — what is specially to be noted — many even of those 
theories, in which the laws of existence are correctly set forth, pre- 
sent idealized objects and operations, such as are never to be met with 
in reality. 

This separation of even correct hypothesis from literal fact, takes 
place whenever we desire to have an abstract or independent conception 
of the proper effect of some law. The powers of Nature do not work 
separately, nor do they always operate under the same conditions. 
Each plays its proportionate and variable part in producing the com- 
plex actualities which we see. In order to comprehend some simple 
law, we must conceive of a certain power acting alone under given 
conditions; and thus we form the conception of a phenomenon which 
never really takes place, yet which truly sets forth the operation of an 
existing law. We may conceive of an iron ball at rest in space, or 
driven forward into empty space, and thereafter free from the influence 
of every force save its own inertia or momentum. Then, with the aid 
of these conceptions, w^e state the law that any material body will for- 
ever maintain its condition of rest in the same place, or of motion in a 
right line and at the same rate of velocity, if it be not influenced by 
some external power. No such phenomena as these are ever witnessed; 
yet the phenomena actually observed justify our ideal conceptions and 
the law which they enable us to enunciate. The actual motion and 
rest of bodies obey this law, so far as the operation of other laws per- 
mit; and they can be accounted for by the combination of this law 
with others. 

This power of forming and using ideal theories throws light on a 
class of objects sometimes considered in scientific thought, which 
differ, in point of perfection, from any that have ever been met with. 
The conditions of a law affecting any class of objects lie partly in the 
nature of the objects themselves; therefore the absolute, or perfect, 
exemplification of the law may call for a perfection in the nature of 
the object which is nowhere to be discovered. A perfect reflector 
which absorbs none at all of the light which falls upon it, or an abso- 
lutely opaque body through which no light can find its way, or a sub- 
stance so transparent that light can pass through it without any even 
the slightest obstruction or diminution, has never been found. Yet 
such objects can be imagined; and laws of optics, which apply ap- 
proximately to real cases, can be formulated with reference to these 
imaginary standards. For realities sometimes approach so near per- 
fection that no appreciable error follows from regarding them as perfect; 



Chap.xlvl] the philosophical imagination. 375 

and in other cases, when the imperfection seriously affects the result, 
this can be estimated and taken into account in our calculations. 

id 1 of "^^^^ ideals of geometrical theory have that perfection to 
geometry. A which we uow refer. The scientific conceptions of the 
difficulty ex- point, the straight line, the plane, the curved surface, and 
plained. ^j^^ regular solid set forth things of a finer quality than 
any which present themselves to the senses. The ordinary definitions 
of some of these ideals have been the occasion of perplexity both to 
metaphysicians and to those mathematicians who have critically ex- 
amined their own conceptions. In particular, the point, the line"^, and 
the surface, as described in geometry, are impossible entities. The 
existence of that which has neither length, breadth, nor thickness, but 
position only, or of that which has length, position, and direction, but no 
width and no thickness, or of that which has length and breadth but no 
thickness or depth, is inconceivable. Thus, apparently, geometry sets 
out by asking us to accept absurd conceptions. 

The difficulty here presented cannot properly be ascribed to the 
imaginary perfection of the entities considered. There is nothing im- 
possible or absurd in imaginary perfection. The difficulty originates 
in connection with the peculiar scientific use for which the ideals 
of geometry are intended, and which they serve. Yet, as it could 
have arisen only where such ideals were employed, it may be con- 
sidered in the present connection. A solution of it is offered in the 
two following statements: — 

Geometry First, Strictly speaking, geometrical science is not con- 

concerned cerned with any independent entities which can be called 
butes^rather poi^^^s, lines, and surfaces, but only with those inherent 
than with parts of solid bodies which these names may indicate, or 
bodies. rather — to speak more strictly still — with the character- 

istic attributes of these parts. A surface, as its name signifies, is 
properly the boundary of a solid body; a line is the edge at which one 
surface meets with another; a point is the termination of some sharp pro- 
jection of the solid; the first of these is considered only with reference 
to its superficial extent; the second with reference only to its length 
and course; and the third with reference to its position only. Even the 
solid body itself, though possessing an independent or substantial exist- 
ence, is thought of only so far as it has shape and size, so that, in truth, 
the shape and size of the solid, rather than the solid itself, are considered. 
For in geometry solidity means simply space-filling extension. 

This fact — that the proper objects of geometrical thought are not 
independent entities, but attributes of solid bodies or of their inher- 
ent parts, helps to explain the character of geometrical definitions. 
Though no surface can exist without solidity, we can think of its 
breadth without thinking of the solidity beneath it; though no line 
can exist save as a slender solid strip, we can think of its length with- 
out thinking of the solidity accompanying that; and though no point 
can exist save as the terminal part of a line or sharpened body, we can 
think of its position, or of the position of the centre of it, without 
thinking of its solidity. Therefore, in a science which concerns itself 
with surfaces, lines, and points only that it may consider their char- 
acteristic attributes, it is natural that these entities should be spoken 



376 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLVL 

of as if they possessed these attributes alone, although, as we have 
said, these attributes cannot exist, nor even really be conceived to 
exist, in separation from each other and from solidity. 

This mode of speech will be further justified by the 
us?s"auxili- second statement which we have to make. This is that 
ary concep- ideal conceptions of lines, points, and surfaces, as separate 
tions. entities, are used by us as supports of geometrical thought. 

The mind dislikes to conceive of mere attributes, even though these 
maybe the proper subjects of its consideration; so, instead of attributes 
simply, it conceives of objects as having them. In this way one's con- 
ceptions are made more to resemble fact. But in the combinations of 
thought it is needful that each attribute, or each system of attributes, 
should be allowed its own proper value and effect; therefore we fashion 
for ourselves objects in which all other attributes than those specially 
given to them exist in the lowest conceivable degree. In short, we 
imagine entities which have no appreciable force or value, except in 
those particulars with which we have characterized them. 

Hence geometrical ideals are things more perfect for the purposes of 
thought than any that can be made or found. But they are not ab- 
surdities. The point occupies space, though it is infinitesimally small ; 
the line has width and thickness, but it is of the utmost conceivable 
attenuation, and is without the slightest roughness or irregularity; the 
superficies is a film of indescribable thinness, and absolutely continu- 
ous; while the solid is bounded by such surfaces, and is free from all 
interstices, so as fully to fill the space assigned to it. These concep- 
tions involve no absurdity; they are consistent with the necessary 
laws of being. But the size of the point, the width of the line, the 
thickness of the surface, are so insignificant that they can be disre- 
garded in reasoning. And the solid, being of perfect density, is such 
that it is measured exactly by the space it occupies. 

When, therefore, the geometrician says that the point has position 
only, the line length only, and the surface breadth only, and identifies 
the solid with the full possible content of a given space, we are to under- 
stand that these ideals are such as may simply represent certain attributes^ 
and such that by means of them we reason, more easily than we other- 
wise could, regarding the position, length, superficial extent, and 
solid contents of material objects. 

_, The manner in which men of genius form hypotheses 

tion and use and scientific theories is essentially the same with that in 
of scientific which we form suppositions to account for facts which 
hypotheses, jj^^^pest us. The phenomenon to be explained is attentively 
studied, and is compared with similar phenomena whose causes are 
known. Thereupon a cause is conjectured similar to some known 
cause or causes, but differing from it or them in some way to account 
for the peculiarities of the case in hand. But often an hypothesis 
when made is found unsatisfactory. Deductions from it conflict with 
some of the observed facts, or with facts not previously considered. 
Then that conjecture is abandoned for another, constructed in a simi- 
lar way, but either wholly or partially different. Another process of 
trial takes place with this hypothesis ; and so the work goes on till 
either hope of discovery is given up, or an hypothesis is framed which 



Chap. XL VI.] THE PHILOSOPHICAL IMAGINATION. 377 

satisfactorily explains the facts. Then, if the cause assigned by this 
supposition be found really to exist and operate, or if, in any other 
way, we can prove that no other cause can possibly produce the results 
to be accounted for, the hypothesis becomes a doctrine fully received 
and confidently held. Such has been the history of almost all impor- 
tant theories. 

The second "^^^ ^^® ^^ philosophic invention, in which we suppose 
use of by- things to exist for the purpose of deducing from them im- 
potbeses. aginary consequences, is next in importance to that which 
aims at the explanation of facts and the discovery of causes. 

Indeed, the formation of hypotheses or conjectures would be com- 
paratively ineffectual toward the ascertainment of truth if these could 
not be tested by a deductive process. This is done when one combines 
the hypothesis to be tested with some known fact or principle, and then 
marks the legitimate inference. For he can now inquire whether this 
inference agrees with the various facts known to him which relate to 
the subject in hand, or with such facts as he can discover, or with the 
results of his experiment, — that is, with such facts as he can create. 
If there be agreement, the hypothesis is confirmed; if there be conflict 
•with fact, it is overthrown. Thus suppositional inference is a test of 
hypothesis. 

But it has uses more immediately its own ; because the full signifi- 
cance of any scientific truth cannot be understood unless we combine 
it with one supposition and another, so as to perceive its different pos- 
sible bearings. For example, the importance of solar light and heat 
cannot well be estimated, unless we should suppose them suddenly to 
cease to illuminate and warm the earth, and should consider what 
midnight darkness and frigid death would then enwrap all beings that 
are living now. 

Useful in- A yet more notable use of imagination, in connection 

vention. with a deductive process, is exhibited in useful contrivance. 
Such was the invention of the air-pump, by Otto Guericke ; of the 
thermometer, by Sanctorius; of the reflecting telescope, by Gregory; of 
the safety-lamp, by Sir Humphry Davy; of logarithms, by Napier; and 
of the Calculus, by Sir Isaac Newton. The steam-engine, the cotton- 
gin, the electric telegraph, the telephone, the daguerreotype; and ma- 
chines for carding, spinning, weaving, knitting, sewing; for type-setting 
and printing, for mowing, reaping, threshing; and many others em- 
ployed in modern civilization, — are the products of that invention of 
which we now speak. 

For invention, in the narrower sense, indicates only one species of 
philosophical imagination or invention, and signifies the work of dis- 
covering methods by which laws and instrumentalities already known 
may be made to serve useful ends. This work is similar to that of dis- 
covering the causes and conditions of phenomena, but it is more com- 
pletely dependent on the constructive power of the imagination. That 
conjecture which uses hypotheses for the purpose of discovering ante- 
cedents starts out from the perception or assumption of facts; but this 
invention, which aims to realize an end through the use of means, has 
only a possibility in view. 

Moreover, causes may often be found by simple inquiry and search, 



378 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XL VH. 

without the aid of supposition; but mental combination alone can 
afford us any hope of the production of a new agency. 

Sometimes the discovery of a useful adaptation may appear to result 
from chance; but it seldom or never results from chance alone. Or- 
dinarily, the inventor must try many combinations, one after another, 
without producinn- the effect hoped for. But if the end be a possible 
.one, his work makes progress. Every new attempt reduces the likeli- 
hood of failure in the next, and increases the probability of success. 
But, generally, some uncertainty still remains ; so that in most in- 
stances the end seems attained or suggested, at last, by some fortu- 
nate circumstance, and has the appearance of being found rather 
than achieved. Hence it is that the term "invention," which origi- 
nally signified only discovery, has come to be applied to the laborious 
process of contrivance, and especially to the contrivance of useful 
instrumentalities. 

Imaginative That exercise of the philosophic imagination which fur- 
illustration, nishes illustrations of truth may be passed without extended 
discussion. It is a fact that a principle is sometimes better stated and 
understood by means of suppositions and similitudes than it can be by 
means of direct statement, or even by describing any actual example 
of its operation. 

The right illustration of truth is a work of less difficulty than the 
formation of wise hypotheses, or the invention of useful applications. 
Yet it involves care and skill. An illustration which does not truly 
present the point to be considered, only confuses the mind; and an 
illustration which sets forth with equal or greater prominence soma 
other point also, may be the cause of positive error. 



CHAPTER XLVn. 

THE RATIONAL FACULTY. 

1. That power of thought which manifests itself prominently 
as the controlling element in the rational or discursive phase 
of intellect, is commonly known as reason. 

Most logical and metaphysical writers define this 
dltinuSi?°o'f faculty as that by which the mind forms general no- 
the rational tions and uses these notions in inference and in other 
^^" ^^' operations pertaining to the perception of truth. This 
definition does not appear to be correct. On the one hand, 
general notions are employed in operations which belong to the 
perceptive and reproductive faculties ; and, on the other, cer- 
tain exercises of the reason do not involve general notions. 
The cognitions of acquired perception, which are common to 
man and the brutes, and are not exercises of reason, involve the 



Chap. XLVIL] THE RATIONAL FACULTY. 379 

instinctive use of rules of inference, which rules are of the nature 
of general notions. In short, several operations which are often 
described as belonging to the rational faculty exclusively, occur 
in mental phases which are contrasted with reason. And the 
doctrine that every exercise of reason involves the use of gen- 
eral thought cannot be sustained. It is now commonly admitted 
that trains of geometrical ratiocination can, and often do, take 
place from the simple inspection and consideration of diagrams, 
and without the intervention of universal principles. Yet such 
reasonings are among the purest products of the rational facultj- . 
Locke's Locke says that reason is " that facult}^ whereby 

definition, man is supposed to be distinguished from beasts, and 
wherein it is evident that he much surpasses them." To make 
this definition explicit and satisfactorj^, we must say " that fac- 
ulty of perception and judgment ; " for man surpasses the brutes 
in imagination as well as in reason. 

As Locke's " Essay" was directed to the consideration of the 
understanding, the limitation we have suggested was doubtless 
in his mind. Indeed, this is evident ; for he goes on to describe 
reason as the faculty which first distinctly ascertains the grounds 
for belief or knowledge, and which then applies them so as to 
obtain either certaint3^ or probable conviction. 

Other authors — such as Kant, Coleridge, and 
pioymentof Morcll — givc the name " reason" to a facult}^ which 
•^'^'reascm " *^^^' distinguish from the understanding, or reasoning 
power, and by means of which we immediately pos- 
sess ourselves of the necessary elements or eternal principles of 
truth. We can discover no good ground to believe that we 
have any such independent faculty, and therefore shall not dwell 
on this meaning of the term. 

Nor need we discuss those teachings which make reason some- 
thing impersonal, separate from the soul, and communicated to 
it, — a revelation of the Absolute Intelligence ! Philosophers 
should leave such language to orators and poets. 
Keasonisnot An exact definition of the rational facult}^ can be 
po^\v"?^but a obtained onl}' h\ a careful scrutiny of that conception 
pecuiiar en- of rcasou which thosc employ who use the term with- 
mentai^aVii out making it the expression of any philosophical 
^^^- theor}^ An examination of this usage, together with 

a consideration of the mental facts immediately related to it, 
will lead to the following results : — 

In the first place, reason is not a single power, but rather a 
collection of powers which operate in conjunction with each other. 
Both thought and belief, together with attention, association, 
analysis, sj-nthesis, abstraction, conception, generalization, spe- 



380 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLVIl. 

cification, — in short, all the intellectual powers, whether pri- 
mar}^ or secondary, enter into this complex faculty. 

In the next place, reason involves a peculiar endowment of 
mental ability. The powers which this facult}^ employs are em- 
ployed b}' our other faculties of perception, but in lower degree. 
Man is said to be distinguished from the brute by his reason, 
and undoubtedl}' the development of reason in man is far beyond 
what an}' brute exhibits ; yet a weak and limited degree of rea- 
son cannot be denied to some of the brute creation, for we call 
any perception rational which is the product of some thought 
and study. 

Again, we notice that the special ahility out of which reason 
spri7igs is manifested in connection with both the primary 
powers of mind. First of all, there is a peculiar power of corn- 
er ehension., whereby a collection of things naturally' related, 
whether present or absent, actual or possible, can be thought of 
at once, so that the things presented in actuahty often occupy 
but a small portion of one's rational attention ; and, secondly, 
there is a peculiar power of judgment, ov penetration., whereby 
the relations of things, and especially their necessary relations, 
are perceived, and so the mind discovers the inner nature of 
things and their more remote causes and consequences. By 
reason the savage is instructed to shoot the poisoned arrow, and 
is informed that when wounded b}" such a weapon he must die. 
The mere brute cannot fashion such an instrument and antici- 
pate its effect. 

It is further evident that this peculiar ability of comprehen- 
sion and penetration which we have now described affects the 
operation of the secondary powers., so far as they contribute to 
that increased perception of truth which is the work of reason. 
Rational analysis is thorough, exact, and definite. The S3^nthe- 
sis of reason is comprehensive, unites parts or elements by com- 
plex and important relations, and forms conceptions whollj' its 
own. The associative or suggestive power of a rational thinker 
chooses from a wider range of ideas, and selects those of spe- 
cial significance and value ; while abstraction and generalization, 
which are hidden factors in the lower modes of cognition, are 
marked features of rational thought. From these causes opera- 
tions arise — such as the definition and division of notions, for- 
mal predication, the s3^stematization and arrangement of topics, 
and analytical connected argument — which are wholly pecuhar 
to rational beings. 

This leads to the remark that the exercise of reason exhibits 
a greater voluntary control of our thinking powers than is to 
be seen in connection with our other faculties. Some might 



Chap. XLVIL] THE RATIONAL FACULTY. 381 

even conjecture that reason originates in a peculiar ability to 
direct one's mental powers to the accomplishment of their proper 
ends. But this would be a very imperfect view. The truth is 
that the w41l shows more direction because reason both furnishes 
powers capable of being guided to a peculiar efficienc}' and also 
indi(3ates the ends and methods of this guidance. The increased 
mental grasp is of itself sufficient to account for the phenomena 
without supposing an}' simultaneous and independent addition 
to the strength of the will. 

Reason therefore may be defined as that compre- 
ttieTitionai hcnsivc and penetrating faculty by which man obtains 
finTci*^^' ^^' ^ distinct knowledge of the nature of things, and can 
discover objects and the relations of objects which lie 
be3'ond the sphere of his immediate oi? acquired perceptions, — a 
faculty by which we not only analyze and perfect such knowledge 
as is merely presentational or of easy and habitual inference, 
but also add to this knowledge by the power of widely embrac- 
ing conception and far-reaching judgment. 

The division '^^^ older English writers divided the exercise of 
ofreason ill- reason into the intuitive and the discursive., in this 
twJ'or'pJac- following somc of the schoolmen. In the fifth book 
ticai, and the of "Paradise Lost," Milton makes the angel Gabriel 

Qiscursiv6 or 

speculative. Say, in his address to Adam, — 

" The soul 
Reason receives, and reason is her being, 
Discursive or intuitive : discourse 
Is oftest yours ; the latter most is ours ; 
Differing but in degree, of kind the same." 

The intuition referred to in such language as this does not 
signify, what the primar}^ meaning of the word might suggest, 
an absolutely immediate or presentational cognition ; as Milton 
says, these two modes of reason differ., not in kind, hut in de- 
gree. We are here taught that there is an exercise of reason 
which resembles literal intuition in being without a process, or, 
to speak more accurately, in being without an}' deliberate an(i 
conscious process. In this mode of reason, because either of in- 
tellectual superiority, as might be supposed in the case of angels, 
or of acquired and habitual skill, as in the case of human beings, 
the action of the mind is instantaneous, or nearly so ; the whole 
nature and all the bearings of some fact or collection of facts 
are seen and understood by a single glance. 

This kind of perception is often exhibited by men in the prac- 
tical affairs of life ; and with reference to this, the faculty which 
exercises it might be called the practical reason. The other 



382 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap.XLVII. 

mode is slower, and more under the conscious direction of the 
mind. Its suggestion of thought is in answer to continued in- 
quiry ; its analysis scrutinizes each element in succession ; its 
synthesis is deliberate systematization ; its inference considers, 
one after the other, antecedent, consequent, and the connection 
between them ; in short, the energy of its attention is directed 
in turn to all the several elements of an act of knowledge, so 
that the nature and use of each may be properlj- apprehended. 
On this account this mode of reason has been called the discur- 
sive. It has also been stj'led the speculative, and under this 
title may be properly contrasted with that practical mode of 
reason which we have just defined. 

But while reason is divided into the intuitive and the discur- 
sive, or the practical and the speculative, these are radically the 
same power, and differ only in the mode of their operation. The 
elements and methods of thought and of belief are the same in 
both. Intuitive reason may be compared to a practised military 
genius who perceives at first sight all the capabilities of a field 
of battle ; discursive reason is the less experienced and it may 
be less talented commander, who surveys each part of the field 
in succession, and forms his plan of action gradually. 

Such being the case, it is plain that the term " reason'* can- 
not be exactly replaced by the expression " discursive facult}-," 
one form of reason being in a sense intuitive. Yet reason may 
properly enough be called the discursive faculty, provided only 
it be understood that such language is adopted, because dis- 
course is the more prominent mode of reason, and that alone in 
which the nature and workings of this power can be directly 
seen and studied. The intuitive exercise of reason is too rapid 
for either contemplation or control ; it can be understood and 
influenced only through a knowledge of the nature of rational 
discourse and of the rules by which this should be regulated. 
The philosophy of reason must mainly concern itself with the 
discursive development. But in speaking of reason as discur- 
sive, we must guard against misapprehension. 

In this connection let us notice an unwarranted dis- 
aiui the ua- tiuction whicli has been made between the reason and 
ideuiicai!"^ the Understanding. Some have confined the former 
term to what we have called the intuitive reason, and 
have assigned the latter to the discursive faculty ; while others, 
adopting an opposite use of language, have given intuition. to 
the understanding and discourse to reason. • The fact is that 
both terms indicate the same thing, though under different points 
of view. The designation " reason " is derived from the essen- 
'tial work of the faculty, — -that is, from that perception and col- 



Chap. XLVIL] THE RATIONAL FACULTY. 383 

lation of things and their relations {res, reor) whence our higher 
knowledge takes its rise ; while the name ' ' understanding " 
springs from a reference to the result of the foregoing perception, 
whereb}' one figuratively stands under the facts he has consid- 
ered, — that is, below their superficial appearance and among 
their causes. This result is directly indicated by the verb " to 
understand," and therefore the noun "understanding" more 
immediately suggests that discursive faculty b}^ the use of which, 
ordinarily, one consciously attains to rational intelligence. To 
the common mind the term " reason" is without this suggestive- 
ness. But that both terms have essentially the same applica- 
tion is chiefl}^ evinced b}^ the fact that the phenomena ascribed 
to both faculties, when sifted and explained, call onlj^ for the 
existence of one faculty. 

The rational Such IS rcason. We may now inquire whether the 
reaswf'dis- I'ational, or discursive, phase of thought, as distin- 
tiuguisiied guished from the rational faculty, should be held to 
tioimi^phas^e include cvciy mental operation in which reason parti- 
of thought, cipates ; or should it be confined to those in which 
reason is the prominent and controlling factor f 

If we adopt the former alternative, we must allow the rational 
phase to include every exercise of the productive imagination, 
because this imagination constantly employs the reason and 
judgment. But it will contribute better to clearness of concep- 
tion and statement if we limit the discursive phase to exercises 
of mind which are distinctively logical, whose proper purpose 
and result is the attainment of truth. This course will render 
more defined the distinction between the reproductive and the 
rational phase of intellect, and will agree with that frequent mode 
of conception according to which complex objects are named and 
distinguished with reference to their preponderating character. 

The rational phase should include every mental activity in 
which the ascertainment and understanding of truth is the 
main purpose and result of the employment of reason / while 
those rational operations which are simply subordinate parts in 
the work of the creative imagination may be relegated to the 
reproductive phase. And thus, as certain modes of scientific 
imagination may be claimed for the rational, so certain plastic 
exercises of reason may be granted to the reproductive, intellect. 
Three neces- '^* ^^'^® elemental powers from which reason is con- 
sary forms stitutcd are the same with those which enter into our 
though":*the lowcr'perceptivc faculties, and have been discussed as 
notion, the the primary and secondary powers of mind. In treat- 
and the ' Ing of them much matter was introduced which psycho- 
inference, logical writers heretofore have placed under the head 



384 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLVII. 

of the rational facult}^ This order has not been adopted in 
ignorance of the fact that notions^ judgments.^ and inferences 
are the three generic forms of discursive thought; but it has 
been our desire to emphasize the doctrine that these modes of 
activity- belong to every phase of mental life, and become distinc- 
tively^ rational only when reason may have conferred upon them 
some of its own superioritj'. The correctness of this position 
will become apparent if we consider brie% the development of 
these three forms of thought under the operation of rational 
intelligence. 

The mere genercdization of a conception does not call for 
any special strength of mind. A general notion in itself is 
simply a partial and indeterminate kind of thinking, and may 
be formed spontaneously and unconsciously. Within a certain 
sphere of thought it is not beyond the intellect of the brute. 
Only those notions are distinctively the products of reason 
which arise from intentional analysis and abstraction, or rather 
from a conscious determination to know and understand. Ra- 
tional conception originates in the clear analytical perception 
of things, and employs generalization only incidentally. It 
takes place in the first instance when some individual object — 
a book, an inquiry, a quarrel, a distance, a delay — is made the 
object of attentive consideration. This step is followed by the 
abstraction and generalization of those qualities, or characters, 
which are recognized as the basis of laws ; and this again is suc- 
ceeded by the formation of new conceptions so complicated and 
so comprehensive as to be beyond the reach of anj' but rational 
beings. Finally, a yet higher intelligence is obtained by the accu- 
rate definition of ideas, by the logical division of them, and by 
their arrangement in systems. In this way sciences originate. 

Judgment, as a mental modification, stands midway between 
the notion and the inference. So far as it consists of thought 
judgment is an existential conception, but in addition to this it 
includes conviction or beUef. In inference the formation of con- 
viction is more prominent than in simple judgment ; for infer- 
ence founds one judgment on another or on others. A rational 
judgment arises when things are seen in their deeper and wider 
relations, or even when a superficial fact is analytically con- 
sidered; and such a judgment, when fully formed and expressed, 
is called a proposition. 

We cannot join those who say that the exercise of reason de- 
pends on language, but it certainly is greatly facilitated by the 
use of this instrument ; nor is there anything more marvellous 
than the way in which the words of a proposition set forth the 
elements which are united in every rational judgment. 



Chap. XL Vn.] THE RATIONAL FACULTY. 885 

The inference may be regarded as consisting of two judg- 
ments, or propositions, connected with each other as antecedent 
and consequent ; and it is rational inference^ or reasoning^ 
only when it i7ivolves a noticeable degree of analytic or com- 
prehensive thought. The antecedent proposition may be either 
simple or compound, according to the nature of the fact or truth 
presented by it ; but the inference can alwa3's be reduced to 
two propositions, and in a certain sense always consists of two 
only. 

This may be seen, first, in the case of those inferences which 
logicians call immediate. In the example, " Nine inches are 
part of a foot, therefore the^^ are less than a foot," there are two 
simple propositions, the latter being the consequent and the for- 
mer the antecedent. But should we say, '* John is older than 
Hugh, and Hugh is older than William ; therefore John is older 
than William," the antecedent might be said to contain two propo- 
sitions, as it certainly does ; yet neither of these Xi^ itself con- 
stitutes an antecedent ; both must be taken together to express 
one compound fact, — namely, " John is older than Hugh, who 
is okler than William." This compound proposition is the ante- 
cedent ; so the argument is reduced to two propositions, though 
one of them is compounded and double. 

In those inferences, also, which logicians call mediate, the an- 
tecedent consists of one proposition, — that is, of the statement 
of one fact, though it be compounded of two. When we saj'', 
*' Hindoos are men, and men are mortal," there are two propo- 
sitions, neither of which alone would lead to an^^ conclusion; 
but the compound proposition resulting from their union is a 
logical antecedent. For we ma}^ sa^s " Hindoos belong to the 
class, men, who are mortal," or " Hindoos have the nature of 
man, which is subject to death;" whence we infer, "Hindoos 
are mortal," or " are subject to death." 

Any detailed discussion of the forms of rational thought does 
not lie within the limits of our present purpose. Logic is the 
science which sets forth the laws according to which these forms 
are constructed and emploj^ed. 

We are convinced that the progress of philosophic analysis 
calls for a more natural and less dogmatic development of this 
science than any that has yet appeared, and confidently^ hope 
for a satisfactory logic in the near future. For a true theory 
of rational conviction must spring from anal3'sis and not from 
assumption. Partly to support the possibility of this hope, we 
shall close our discussion of the discursive intellect with some 
remarks on the principal, or generic, modes of reasoning. 

25 



386 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XL Vm. 

CHAFTER XLVIII. 

EATIOCINATION. 

Reasoning, or 1- The name reasoning^ or ratiocination., might 
defineS^Syi-' ^^ applied to every exercise of the discursive faculty, 
logismde- and is sometimes so emplo3'ed. But, more com- 
"^ ■ monl}", it is restricted to conscious and intentional 

inference ; and we shall use the term with this meaning. 

This inference may consist of one act of reasoning, or of many. 
In the latter case we have a course, or train, of reasoning. As 
the understanding of the single step renders the explanation of a 
succession of inferences a matter of little diflacult}', the philoso- 
phy of ratiocination is chiefl}^ concerned with the single step. 

A step, or act, of reasoning, when full}^ stated or expressed, 
ma}" be called a syllogism. Aristotle sa3's : " A S3'llogism is a 
sentence in which, certain things being laid down, something 
else, different from the premises, necessarily results in conse- 
quence of their existence." Here the essential point is, that, 
something being laid down, or assumed, as true, something else 
follows, or ma}" be inferred, as true. 

Aristotle, indeed, does not speak of a thing, but of things, 
being laid down, as if inference were alwa3's grounded on a 
plural something. This is to be accounted for by the fact that 
he formall3" recognized onl3' those inferences which proceed from 
two premises. Such has been the influence of Aristotle, that 
almost all logicians have followed his example in this respect. 
Of late years, however, particular attention has been given to 
certain " immediate inferences," in which one fact or truth is 
inferred from one other ; and it seems best that these, as well 
as all other inferences, when full3" stated, in thought or in lan- 
guage, should be called syllogisms. 

A necessa ^' "^^^ principal point in Aristotle's definition ap- 

coiisequence plics equall3' to all forms of inference whatever. He 
voh'e"anec- ^^3'^ ^^^ ^^^ conclusxon necessarily follows from the 
essarycon- things laid doicn. This is true of ever}" correctly 
sequen . formed syllogism, whether the conclusion be in itself 
true or not, and whether it set forth something as certainl3" or 
necessaril3^ fact, or as being onl3" doubtfully or probably or pos- 
sibly true. In every case the conclusion follows necessarily 
from the premises, and must do so as long as the nature of 
things and the nature of mind remain what they are. 

In order to justify this statement, and to free the doctrine of 



Chap. XLVIIL] RATIOCINATION. 887 

inference from confusion, a distinction is necessary between 
what may be termed a convictional and an objectual necessity 
of consequence. In ever}^ correct inference, whether of some- 
thing necessary, of something contingent, or of something 
probable, there is a convictional necessit}^ of consequence. 
The antecedent, or premise being certainly or possibly or 
probabl}' true, the consequent, or conclusion, must be true also 
in a corresponding sense. But an inference maj^ be correct 
without any objectual necessit}' of consequence. This belongs 
onl}' to that demonstrative inference which arises from the 
known or assumed existence of some antecedent of necessit3^ 
It does not belong to the inference of the contingent and the 
probable. 

The distinction now made may be stated somewhat inade- 
quately- b}^ saying that a necessary consequence does not always 
involve a necessary consequent. The former of these things be- 
longs to the essential character of every syllogism ; the latter to 
demonstrative reasoning only. Should we say, in contingenc}", 

Every middle-aged woman may be a married woman ; 
This woman is middle-aged ; therefore 
She may be married, 

the conclusion would necessaril}' follow, though it would not 
be objectually necessary. But should we sa^' , 

Every widow has been married; 
This woman is a widow; 

stating these things for certain, there would not onlj^ be a neces- 
sary^ consequence, but also a necessary consequent, 
This woman has been married. 

False or in- "^^ entire consistenc}^ with the doctrine that the 
correct syiio- conclusiou of cvcr}^ sj'llogism necessarily follows 
gisms. from the premises, we sometimes speak of false or 

incorrect syllogisms. In this, b}' a secondary use of language, 
that is called a s^'llogism which has some appearance of being 
one, while it reall}^ is not. Our language is like that of those 
who call a mere military display a battle — that is, a sham 
battle — because of its outward resemblance to a fight, although 
the essential elements of a conflict are wanting. In false syllo- 
gisms, or inferences, the conclusion does not necessarily follow 
from the premises. 

A threefold 3. We shall Commence our discussion of ratiocina- 
division of ^jqj^ y^^ making a division of inferences with reference 

inferences : i t S^ i . i . i 

demonstra- to the mode oi logical connection between antecedent 
gJnt,^prob-" ^^^^ consequent. A thing is necessaril}- existent when 
able. a logical necessitant of it exists and is included in an 



388 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XL VIII. 

antecedent ; it is a thing contingent or possible when some or 
many of the elements of that necessitant exist, while none are 
known to be non-existent ; and it is probable when a definite 
proportion of the chances, or individual possibihties, attending 
an antecedent of contingency, are seen to include the existence 
of the consequent. 

Inferences, therefore, are those of necessit}^, of contingency, 
and of probabiht}" ; and in each of these modes they may be 
S3ilogistically, or formally, expressed. We may say, 

Triangle A is equal to triangle B ; and 
Triangle B is equal to triangle C ; therefore 
Triangle A is equal to triangle C. 

This would be reasoning in necessity. Or we might say, 

This figure is a triangle, therefore 
It may be equiangular. 

This would be reasoning in contingency. Or we might say, 

This is one of three individual triangles, of which one is scalene, 

one isosceles, and one equilateral ; therefore, 

with the probability of one in three. 
This triangle is equilateral. 

The style of reasoning exhibited in inferences of necessitj' is 
commonly called demonstrative, or apodeictic ; while the other 
two modes have been classed together as contingent, or pi^ohahle, 
reasoning. Of these last two terms, the former is the more 
ancient designation, and the latter the more modern, for all in- 
ference arising from the conception of possibilities. 

With Aristotle the contingent syllogism is what logicians now 
call the probable. Neither he nor they distinguish from each 
other the modes of reasoning which we have designated b}" these 
terms. The conception of contingencies, being a constant and 
prominent element of probable inference, was thought of only as 
included in the latter ; and the more easily so because the con- 
jecture of contingency seldom takes place without being devel- 
oped into the conjecture of probability. It is not to be wondered 
at that one of these inferences was subordinated to the other, and 
that both were included under one generic name. At the same 
time the philosophy of thought requires that the contingent and 
the probable inference should sometimes be distinguished from 
each other specifically ; and should some generic designation be 
then desired which should leave each of these names to its own 
proper application, both contingent and probable inference might 
be included under the title problematic, or conjectural. 

In every case of problematic inference a part of an antece- 



Chap. XL VIII.] RATIOCINATION. 389 

dent of necessity is emplo^^ed, not of choice, but because the 
case does not yield a whole antecedent. Therefore, in a cer- 
tain sense, contingent and probable reasoning may be regarded 
as imperfect modes of inference, and demonstrative as the per- 
fect mode. But as the incomplete or imperfect is more easily 
understood after we have obtained a correct conception of the 
perfect, our attention, in the first instance, must be principally 
directed to demonstrative reasoning. 

Nevertheless, all these modes of inference can, to some ex- 
tent, be studied together. Since it is the nature of all s^'llo- 
gisms whatever to present an antecedent with which, in some 
way, the existence of a supposed consequent is naturally con- 
nected, we may expect some common relations to pertain to 
things which are thus generically one. The most important of 
these relations may be brought to view if we now consider two 
distinctions which are of an absolutely universal application. 
Ostensive.or ^- The first of these pertains to the subjective 
categorical, aspcct of syllogisms, and sets forth two modes of 
tive.^mfer-^*' belief, or forms of assertion, either of which every 
ence. inference may assume without any change in the 

thoughts composing it. Using this distinction, we divide syllo- 
gisms into the ostensive and the suppositive. The former have 
truth, or what is taken for truth, as their ground of inference ; 
the latter are expressly based on hypothesis. 

This division may be traced to Aristotle, or, at least, maj' be 
supported from his writings. He teaches that " every demon- 
stration and every syllogism must show something to be in- 
herent or non-inherent, and this . . . either ostensively or by 
hypothesis." He describes the ostensive syllogism as one 
"which commences from confessed theses," and "in which 
the premises are laid down according to truth ; " and he saj'^s, 
" Let us first speak of the ostensive sj^llogisms ; and when these 
are explained the truth will be clear also in reference to those 
leading to the impossible, and concerning those by hj'pothesis 
generally." 

He also shows that the " sj'llogism ad impossibile" or the 
reductio ad absurd um, though suppositive, has essentially the 
same form, or thought-structure, with the ostensive syllogism. 

It is to be regretted that the writings of Aristotle nowhere 
fulfil his promise ' ' to show hereafter what are the distinctive 
marks of the hypothetical syllogism, and in how man}^ ways it 
is produced." We cannot tell whether he included all syllogisms 
founded on an h3'pothesis among the h^'pothetical, or whether 
he characterized as hypothetical those only which have some- 
thing additional to their suppositive character. Certainly the 



390 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLVHL 

reductio ad ahsurdum, which he frequently mentions as h3'po- 
thetical, is not simpl}^ a suppositive syllogism, but a suppositive 
syllogism with an ostensive addition. We reason, — 

Any passing animal would leave tracks on the sand ; 
A camel {let us suppose) has passed here ; therefore 
( We must suppose) 
The camel iias left tracks. 

So far the ratiocination is purely suppositive. But we add, — 

There are no tracks ; therefore 
No camel has passed. 

This is an ostensive addition, and by reason of it the argument 
as a whole is not reall3^ suppositive ; it is ostensive. 

But whether Aristotle did or did not regard such additions as 
essential parts of his " hypothetical syllogisms," his follov^^ers 
have done so ; therefore the suppositive syllogism of which we 
now speak is to be distinguished from that which is ordinarily 
st3'led hypothetical. For the suppositive differs from the osten- 
sive simpl}' as resting on an antecedent which is not asserted, 
but onl}' supposed, to be true. 

Ostensive inferences are such as these : — 

Air is a substance ; therefore 

It occupies space. — 

Trees spring from seeds ; therefore 

These trees have done so. — 

All gases are elastic ; 

Oxygen is a gas ; therefore 

It is elastic. — 

Men wounded in battle often die ; 

My friend is wounded ; therefore 

He may die. — 

Triangle A is equal to triangle B ; and 

Triangle B is equal to triangle C ; therefore 

Triangle A is equal to triangle C. 

These same reasonings become suppositive if we say, — 

If air is a substance, then 
It occupies space. — 
If trees spring from seeds, then 
These trees have done so. — 

And so on with the rest. 

Though closely allied, the ostensive and the suppositive modes 
of reasoning may take place independentl}'. Each infers from 
its own mode of propositional thought, and produces its own 
kind of conviction. But the ichole logical value of the supposi- 
tive syllogism lies in the possibility of its being coiwerted^ either 



chap.xlviil] ratiocination. 391 

directly or indirectly., into the ostensive syllogism, by means 
of an ostensive addition. Only ostensive inference produces 
expectation of reality. 

Thie distinction between ostensive and suppositive reasoning 
corresponds closely with that between real and hj'pothetical 
knowledge and real and hj'pothetical belief ; yet it is not exactly 
parallel. An ostensive syllogism is one whose premises are 
assumed to be true, and accepted without question, whether the\' 
be really true or not ; while a suppositive syllogism is one whose 
antecedent is conceived merel}^ as an hypothesis, whether the 
truth or falsit}^ of the hypothesis be known or not. 

The nature of suppositive inference being understood, there 
need be no difficulty regarding that hypothetical sj^llogism which 
logicians discuss. This simply accepts the suppositive inference 
as correct, and then, upon the ostensive assertion of the ante- 
cedent infers the actual truth of the consequent, or upon the 
ostensive denial of the consequent infers the actual falsity of 
the antecedent. In so doing, it proceeds immediately from a 
knowledge of the logical connection between any two things 
which are seen to be related to each other as antecedent and 
consequent. 

The ostensive syllogism is that which the successors of Aris- 
totle have called categorical., because the propositions of which 
it is composed are categorical. Without objecting to this term, 
we prefer the ancient name, principally because this is more 
easil}" contrasted in meaning with the term " suppositive." 
ortiioiogicai 5. The second distinction of which we spoke as 
fjgicai iMer- I'elating to all syllogisms whatever, concerns an ob- 
ence. De- jectlvc difference between the antecedents which infer- 
niustSed. ences employ, and takes note of two ultimate modes, 
Lockequoted. or forms, of ratiocination, in one or other of which 
every inference takes place. For either what is inferred to exist 
is so inferred simply because of its logical connection with some 
known fact, and without any reference to an}^ previously per- 
ceived case of logical connection ; or it is inferred because the 
antecedent laid down is similar to some other antecedent pre- 
viously found to have a consequent similar to that now offering 
itself for our acceptance and belief. 

In this latter case the previously perceived connection be- 
tween one thing and another may have been the object of 
immediate cognition and observation, or may have been per- 
ceived inferentially. But the fact that it existed, and the fur- 
ther fact that the antecedent now presented is similar to that 
previously perceived, together constitute a new antecedent for 
a new consequent. For it appears to be an ultimate and neces- 



392 . MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLVin. 

sary law of existence that similar logical antecedents should be 
accompanied b}' similar consequents. 

In the absence of better terms, we shall stj'le all inferences 
whose validit}^ depends upon their conformity to this law of 
being and of belief, liomological ; while those inferences whose 
force is independent of an}^ comparison of present with previously 
perceived cases of consequence we shall call orthological. 

Homological inference takes place whenever one reasons from 
experience, or from any knowledge of some, similar case or 
cases. If a little child but once puts its finger into the flame 
of a candle, it will avoid doing so thereafter. In this it is 
guided by a conclusion from a past experience. An adult per- 
son, who avoids touching fire on the general principle that " fire 
burns," likewise reasons homologically, even though he ma}^ not 
directly refer to a past experience ; for the general principle 
from which he reasons is derived from the past experience 
of himself and others. 

So also the student who, by a series of immediate judgments, 
has perceived that the three angles of some plane triangle are 
equal to two right angles, feels warranted to assume this to be 
true respecting an}^ other plane triangle. Moreover, he can ob- 
tain a general principle from his immediate perception of truth, 
and can employ this, homologicalty, as a rule of inference. 

Orthological reasoning takes place in the more intuitional 
steps of mathematical and geometrical demonstration, and in 
what have been called immediate inferences generall3^ It is 
such as Locke mentions in the following passage. " I ask," he 
sa3's, "is it not possible for a young lad to know that his whole 
body is bigger than his little finger but by virtue of this maxim, 
that the whole is bigger than a part, nor to be assured of it till 
he has learned that maxim ? Or cannot a country wench know, 
that, having received a shilling from one that owes her three, 
and a shilling also from another that owes her three, the re- 
maining debts in each of their hands are equal? Cannot she 
know this, I sa}^, without she fetch the certainty of it from this 
maxim, that, if 3'ou take equals from equals, the remainders will 
be equals, — a maxim which possibl}^ she never heard or thought 
of? I desire any one to consider . . . which is known first 
and clearest by most people, — the particular instance or the 
general rule ; and which it is that gives birth and life to the 
other." 

In these inferences described by Locke, two things are observ- 
able. In the first place, the force of the reasoning is not de- 
rived either from or through any general principle. This is 
the point which Locke enforces. If one were to cut an apple 



Chap. XLVIIL] RATIOCINATION. 893 

into pieces, and think only of that apple and those pieces, he 
could immediately reason, and say respecting any one piece, 
that it was less than the whole apple, and this with as much 
certainty as if he should say, — 

Wherever there are whole and parts, each part is less than the whole; 
In this case there is a whole with its parts ; therefore 
Each of these parts is less than the whole. 

And no strength would be added to the reasoning of the country- 
woman by saying, — 

When equals are taken from equals, the remainders are equal ; 
In this case equals have been taken from equals ; therefore 
The remainders are equal. 

The maxim, or general principle, in such cases may serve to 
test the reasoning, but is not the source of its validity, — that is, 
of its powder to produce correct conviction. 

Secondl3\ we must notice that orthologlcal inference takes 
place not only without reference to any general principle, but 
also without reference to any previously perceived particular 
case of necessary connection. Locke did not full}' apprehend 
this point. His zeal is directed against the doctrine "that all 
knowledge [or reasoning] depends on certain prcecognita., or 
general . maxims, called principles." He nowhere denies that 
all inference may derive its force from remembered instances of 
a similar nature. But it is clear that we often reason without 
any reference either to general principles or to any similar case 
of necessary connection previously perceived. 

We often note a certain fact, simple or complex, and there- 
upon immediately infer another fact. This is the most striking 
peculiarity of those inferences mentioned in the above quotation 
from Locke. If one event precedes another, we can imme- 
diatel}^ or without reference to any other case, affirm that the 
other follows it ; and if a first event precedes a second, which 
precedes a third, we can assert, with equal directness, that the 
first is prior to the third as well as to the second. 

There may be ground for question whether, without any pres- 
entational knowledge of things as connected in necessary onto- 
logical relations, the mind could originate the conception of 
unseen consequents to be inferred from perceived antecedents. 
We may even allow that the relational conceptions which ortho- 
logical inference employs are first obtained by the mind in its 
immediate cognitions of fact. But there can he no question 
that many inferential convictions give no indication of being 
dependent on any knowledge of similar cases of connection. 



394 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLVIH. 

On the contrary, that same mental power which immediately 
recognizes the necessary connection between two things presen- 
tationally perceived, also immediately asserts the necessarj^ con- 
nection between two things of which one is known, and the 
other onl}^ conceived, to exist ; and thereby directly infers the 
existence of the other thing. 

Here the question occurs, In what way can we determine 
whether ixny particular inference be orthological or homological ? 
To which we reply that this is to be determined b}" asking. On 
what does the force of this inference essentiallj^ depend ? If it 
arise simpl}^ from consideration of the nature of the antecedent, 
and is independent of reference to any other similar fact known 
to be logically necessitant, the inference is orthological ; if it 
arise in connection with such reference, it is homological. 

Hence it is clear that all reasoning from general principles 
is homological. A general principle has no force originally 
belonging to itself. It is derived from the perception of a 
particular case of consequence, or of a number of such cases, 
and has its validity according to the law that whatever is neces- 
sar}^ in an}' individual instance is necessary likewise in every 
other instance in which there is an antecedent containing the 
same necessitative conditions. When we reason from a general 
principle, we do, in effect, reason from the similar to the similar. 

In all cases of inference we may be said to reason 
may be given ^'^^ ciccorclance With general principles. Therefore, 
ahomoh)?icai also, a homological form ma}' be given to all reason- 
fereuce based iug. But any inference which is in no way dependent 
caireiations. ^^^ *^^ general principle should not be regarded as 
homological. For this reason we distinguish between 
that apparent and formal reasoning from principles, when mathe- 
matical, geometrical, and metaphysical axioms are employed, 
and that real use of principles and general theorems which takes 
place in the development of any form of ontological science. 
After we have made some progress, orthologically, through a 
consideration of individual constructions of figure, or of particu- 
lar concatenations of fact as in various necessary relations, we 
generalize the truths thus obtained ; and thereupon, neglecting 
and forgetting the methods by which such truths were reached, 
we use these as general rules or principles in our farther reason- 
ings. Thus, without remembering how we first came to adopt 
the rules, we ascertain the comparative solidity of cones by mul- 
tiplying the area of their bases by one third of their altitudes, 
and we extract the cube root of numbers by a more complicated 
method. In such cases we are guided by general principles, and 
reason homologically. 



Chap. XLVIIL] RATIOCINATION, 395 

Comparing the two modes of inference with reference to our 
use of them, we find that the most noticeable part of human 
reasoning is hom^ological^ while, at the same time, the ultimate 
principles of inference, with one exception, are orthological. 
Homological reasoning has only one ultimate principle, while 
orthological has many. Here, b}' ultimate principles, we mean 
such as are immediately subordinate to the universal principle of 
reason and consequent. 

It will be noticed that orthological inference is more evidently, 
though not more truly, illustrative of this fundamental law than 
the homological. When we collect at random a number of 
diverse orthological inferences, we find that they can be co- 
ordinated under no one general law, except that of reason and 
consequent. But when we collect homological inferences, we 
are distracted by the duality of the principle according to 
which they are constructed, and b}* its wonderful universality 
of application. 

Because of this latter characteristic the homologic principle 
has beeyi mistaken for the fundamental principle of all rea- 
soning. This error has been facilitated by the circumstance 
that in ever}' train of inferences the successive steps, though 
sometimes orthological and sometimes homological, can all be 
given that form of expression which is properly necessary only 
for the expUcit statement of our reasonings from general princi- 
ples. All reasoning may take a homologic form, and therefore 
we wrongl}' say that all reasoning is based on the homologic 
principle. This has been the almost universal mistake of logicians 
from Aristotle down. 

Again, considering both kinds of inference as setting forth 
things as logicallj' connected with one another, the ontological 
character of both becomes apparent. By this we mean that the 
radical laws of connection which the mind uses in these forms 
of ratiocination are such as must belong to any system of 
things and form a basis for 07ie's reccso?iing with respect to it. 
Collecting and analyzing orthological inferences, we find thera 
to arise from consideration of the necessary relations of times, 
spaces, quantities, substances, powers, actions, changes, — in 
short, of such relations as must pertain to things, provided they 
exist at all, and which could be annihilated onl^^ by the annihila- 
tion of being ; while the homologic principle that similar conse- 
quents attend similar antecedents — that what is necessary in 
an}' case, bj^ reason of the nature of the case, is necessary again 
upon the recurrence of that case — is also ontological. 

It may be asked, Can homological inference be based on onto- 
logical necessity when it produces belief in things that are not 



396 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLIX. 

ontologically necessary, as, for example, when it predicts the 
freezing of water at a certain temperature ? For we may sup- 
pose that almighty power could change the nature of water in 
this one respect, so that, on the sea-level, it would remain 
liquid, or would boil, at the temperature of 32° Fahrenheit. 

We reply that not only that prediction of natural events 
which is characterized by the highest moral certainty, but also 
our merely probable expectations, — and, in short, all inferences 
whatever, — are based on the recognition of the necessar}' char- 
acter of ontological relations. Demonstrative reasoning assumes 
a perfect and complete antecedent of necessit}- ; contingent or 
problematic reasoning assumes an imperfect and incomplete an- 
tecedent of necessity ; but in both the force of the inference 
depends on a perception of the necessary, ontological, relations 
of entity. 

The truth of this doctrine is supported by the fact that prob- 
able inference maj' assume a mathematical expression, as it does 
in the ' ' Calculation of Chances ; " but any complete discussion of 
it belongs to the philosoph}" of Logic. At present we must con- 
tent ourselves with sajing that the radical principles of probable 
inference are as ontological as those of demonstrative inference, 
and would, as a matter of course, be employed, by minds like 
ours, in any universe, or constitution of things, whatever. 



CHAPTER XLIX. 

EXPERIENCE AND INTUITION. 

Three com- !• EXPERIENCE, in commou language, has three 
mou mean- principal meanings. 

term •*' expe- First, it is a name for aZZ o/* 7??an'5 psychicallife, 
rieuce." g^y jjg (Joes or suffers, so far as he is distinctly con- 
scious of it. According to this, we saj', "One's experience 
during such or such a period was monotorvous or varied, happy 
or full of sorrow." 

Secondty, it ma}- denote all of those cognitions., or perceptions, 
of present objects and relations which take place immediately 
on the occasion of one's ps^'chical life, whether the objects be 
included in this life or only in some way connected with it. In 
this sense "experience" is a comprehensive term, including 
every form of sense-perception, concomitant perception, and 



Chap. XLIX.] EXPERIENCE AND INTUITION. 397 

consciousness. Hence memory is the record of experience, and 
is referred to as giving the testimon}' of experience. 

This mode of cognition is nothing else than presentative per- 
ception. Its principal element is the cognition of simple fact ; 
but it does not exclude, as an accessory to this, a perception of 
necessary relations. Thus one may experience, or know from 
experience, the length of a certain road, the necessity of pass- 
ing over that road to reach a certain mountain, the height of 
the mountain, the necessity of exertion to surmount the sum- 
mit, the beauty of the prospect obtained there, the resemblance 
of this view to some other seen elsewhere, and the dependence 
of the beauty or the resemblance on some particular features of 
the prospect. Whatever of fact or of necessit}^ may be observed 
with attention and interest is an object of this experience. 

Finally, experience may signify our immediate knowledge of 
fact considered as accompanied by an inductive process, and 
as resulting in general conclusions. With reference to this 
meaning we often speak of the dictates of experience, and say 
that a wise man is governed b}^ experience, and that it is possi- 
ble to learn from experience — that is, from inductive observa- 
tion — many useful and important lessons. 

At present we emplo}' a sense more restricted than any of 
these, but more closely related to the second than to either of 
the others. We mean, by experience, the perception, or observa- 
tion, of mere fact, as distinguished from the perception of the 
necessary, or logical, relations of fact, or of fact as having 
these relations. If one sees a man on the street, the sentence 
" The man stands on the street, not in the house," ma}^ express 
his experience, or experiential perception, in regard to the man. 
In this he sees and believes simply that the man is in the one 
place and not in the other, but does not think of the necessity 
of his being somewhere if he exist at all, of the impossibility 
of his being both on the street and in the house at the same 
time, or of the possibility of his being in either place. These 
last-mentioned perceptions are intimatel}^ united with those of 
mere fact, and are frequent^ included with them in one act of 
cognition ; yet they may be distinguished from the latter, and may 
be called necessarjs or logical, or intuitional, perceptions. 
. y ^ Often a judgment of experience, or an experiential 
tecbnicaiap- judgment, signifies a lesson or general truth learnt 
the teiS. ^^ from our observation of fact ; and this use of language 
Defined and is natural and proper. But in the present discussion 

ustrate . ^^ ^^^^1^ mean, by experience, only the simple percep- 
tion of fact, — that is, of fact, so far as it does not involve 
logical relations; for these relations, of course, may also be 



898 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLIX. 

things actual. And by empirical cognition, judgment, percep- 
tion, or knowledge, we shall mean the cognition of simple fact, 
and not the knowledge of any law gained from observation, 
although the phrase might have this latter signification. 

Experiential, or empirical, judgments, or perceptions, are ex- 
pressed by pure categorical statements, or what the Aristotelians 
called propositions " de inesse." They use the indicative mood 
of verbs, and this in its simplest and most literal significance. 
Sometimes this mood is used to express a necessary law, as 
when we sa}^, "A straight line is the shortest possible between 
two points ; " " Ice, when exposed to the fire, will melt." But 
it expresses experiential perception when it is used merely his- 
torically. Hence experiential, or empirical, knowledge might be 
called historical ; as it was hy Aristotle. Philosophical history, 
which accounts for facts and traces them to their causes, is not 
purel^^ empirical ; but history, as a mere chronicle of facts, is a 
formal record of experience. 

Experiential knowledge admits of generalization, or rather 
of the use of general notions. One can say, " All the trees in 
that forest are oaks." This does not express any law of neces- 
sit}', but simply sums up the result of an exhaustive observation. 
A general fact must be distinguished from a general law. 

In causational sequence experience, or empirical perception, 
may be said to observe the agent and its power, the operation 
of the power and the result as produced hy this, but not tliat 
absolute necessity of connection which exists between these 
things ; just as it ma^' perceive a body occupying space, but not 
as doing so necessarily. In other words, historical fact and 
logical necessity may be distinguished, and the perception of 
each assigned to a different power, or to a different modification 
of the same power. 

Intuition 2. The term "intuition" signifies literally "a look- 
defined, ing upon," and is naturall}" applied to any style of 
conviction in which something is immediately seen, 
and not inferred, or believed on testimony, to exist. " B}- intu- 
ition," saj^s President McCosh, " I mean that power which the 
mind has of perceiving objects and truths at once, and without 
a process." This is the primary and generic meaning of the 
term. 

But, according to this signification, that act of mind which 
we have distinguished as experience, or empirical perception, is 
a leading kind of intuition : all presentative cognition, whether 
of sense or consciousness or concomitant perception, is intuitive ; 
for all such cognition is immediate and without a process. 

In a previous part of the present treatise the term " intuition " 



Chap. XLIX.] EXPERIENCE AND INTUITION. 399 

was used to signify presentational cognition, and not in the 
peculiar and technical sense now to be emplo^^ed. The intui- 
tion of whicJh ice are about to speak is not^ indeed., to be dis- 
tinguished from all presentative cognition., but it is to be 
distinguished from lohat we have called experiential., or empiri- 
cal., perception. According to the sense at present before us, it 
is not intuition simply to be conscious of having a toothache, 
and to know that it is on one side of j^our face and not on the 
other, or to realize that 3'ou have five digits on one hand, and 
that with these you are touching the fingers on the other hand, 
or other objects within reach. These perceptions would be 
experiences in the special sense alread}' defined. 

Again, intuition sometimes signifies an action of the intellect 
in which things are perceived, not realfy without a process, but 
so quickly and with so great natural or acquired facility that the 
steps of the process elude our observation. According to this 
sense., intuitive reason is opposed to discursive., though these are 
both radically of the same nature. In like manner the process 
of inference in our acquired sense-perceptions is called intuitive. 
This is that intuition exhibited by great mathematicians, who 
sometimes understand and solve problems at once which others 
master only by slow and methodical calculation. 
The meaning The intuition of which we now treat agrees with 
"^intuition^' experience in being a perception of truths without a 
as opposed proccss ; but it differs from experience in that it takes 
*Pexper^°^ place quite as well in the absence as in the presence 
ence." of the objects asserted to exist. It manifests itself in 

the fact that a large class of propositions need only to be pre- 
sented to the mind in order to be fully believed. No objects 
need be actually present ; the conception of them is suflScient. 

For this reason the truths thus perceived mtay more emphati- 
cally be styled intuitional than those gained b}^ experiential 
cognition. Experience does not lead to the belief of proposi- 
tions apart from the evidence of observation, and simply on our 
consideration of them ; in this sense experiential convictions are 
not intuitive. 

Because logic and mental science immediately examine repro- 
duced or elaborated ideas, and not the perceptions in which these 
originate, it was natural that in many discussions those beliefs 
alone should be called intuitive which are evident in themselves, 
or simply as conceived by the mind, while propositions expres- 
sive of our perceptions of simple fact should be regarded as 
immediately evidenced by the presented object, rather than as 
immediatefy evident in themselves. Thus the terms "intuitive" 
and " intuitional," though naturally referring to all perceptions 



400 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLIX. 

which are immediate or without a process, have been opposed 
to the terms " experiential" and " empirical," and have been 
employed to distinguish a class of cognitions which are not 
those of simple fact. 

The objective peculiarity common to intuitive, or 
tothekob^^ self-evideut, convictions is that the}' pertain to the 
jective char- necessarv relations of thincrs, and set forth thinors as 
itioiisare in ncccssary relations. Jbor this reason they have 
ox nece^Jitu- been called our necessary judgments or beliefs. This 
diiiaijudg- designation refers to the necessary nature of the 
truths which these judgments set forth, and not to 
their own nature as modes of mental conviction. Although the 
constitution of the mind renders them necessary in this light 
also, they are no more subjectively necessary than our experien- 
tial convictions. What our cognitive powers apprehend to be 
fact, we cannot help firmly believing, whether we apprehend it 
as necessary fact or not. 

Moreover, it is to be remarked that although our intuitions 
set forth what is necessarily true^ they do not always set forth 
what is necessarily existent. They may present the merely 
possible, or, through a combination of the possible with the 
necessary, what is onty probable. The distinction between 
intuitive and experiential convictions is not such that certainty 
belongs to the former and probability to the latter. On the 
contrary, pure intuitional reasoning, in which only ontological 
principles are employed, may have probable conclusions, while 
both experiential knowledge and the inferences from it may be 
perfect and absolute. No one will dispute that when I see an ob- 
ject — for example, my inkstand — I am just as certain experi- 
entially that it is where it is, — that is, on my table, — as I am, 
intuitively, that, being a real inkstand, it must exist somewhere. 

But the doctrine has been taught that intuitive perception, 
being the cognition of things necessary, is always productive 
of absolute certainty. This is incoiTcct. Our ontological con- 
victions set forth always what is necessarily true, but not alwaj'S 
what is necessarily existent. JPossihility^ or contingency^ and 
probability, no less than necessity and certainty., belong to the 
very nature of things., and are intuitively perceived. Our in- 
ferences in possibility and in probability, no less than those 
which are necessary and certain, involve ontological judgment. 
All pure mathematical reasonings are intuitional, but among the 
purest of them we must reckon calculations of probabilit}'. 

We allow that our more important intuitions concern the neces- 
sarily existent rather than the possible and the probable. But 
we maintain that the radical principles of contingent reasoning 



Chap. XLIX.] EXPERIENCE AND INTUITION. 401 

are intuitive convictions. Let it be remembered that necessary 
judgments are not simply those which set fortli things as exist- 
ing necessaril}^ under given conditions, but those which set forth 
things as necessarily true. 

In stj'hng all intuitional judgment necessary .> we recognize a 
community of nature which subsists between logical necessity 
and logical possibility. Both are modes of the state of the 
coyiditioned. Possibility may be regarded as a partial or im- 
perfectly developed necessity ; and it partakes so much of the 
nature of necessity that it cannot be destroyed so long as the 
antecedent on which it depends exists. An effect is neces- 
sarily possible when some parts of its cause, at least, exist, 
nor can it cease to have this possibility till these conditions 
are removed. As intuitive judgments assert necessity and 
contingency, thc}^ are naturally expressed in modal and hypo- 
thetical propositions, just as empirical judgments are naturally 
expressed by categorical statements. 

Our original Somc distinguish "intuition" as the immediate 
perceptions perception of that which is necessarv as such, and 

of possibility ^ , ^,, . ,, , , ,. ^ jL\ X. \ ' \ ' 

and of con- make " experience the perception oi that which is 
intuiuve^^^ Contingent as such. This contrast of judgments may 
and, in a be made, but it is not that presented in this depart- 
sense^rces^- mcut of philosopliy. Contingency as well as necessity 
situdinai. jg intuitively perceived. Empirical perception is the 
simple cognition of fact, as fact, without reference to its logical 
relations. When we see a man walking along the street, we 
perceive, experientiall}^, that he is moving in space. This is a 
thing necessary if he move at all, for no motion is possible save 
in space ; and it is a thing possible, for the actual is always pos- 
sible, and the existence of space renders the motion of any body 
possible. Moreover, we may say that this necessity and this 
possibility are presentationally perceived. But they are not 
experientially perceived. So far as anything is perceived as 
logically necessary or possible, it is the object of intuitional 
cognition ; mere fact, to the exclusion of logical relations, is the 
object of experiential cognition. It is true that empirical knowl- 
edge does not recognize things as necessary ; but neither does 
it recognize them as contingent. 

Someintui- Here let us avoid that extreme doctrine which 
sentatlonff^" "^^^^^s all presentational thought experiential, and in 
Three modes this wa}^ dcuics that any intuitive thought can be so. 
one"of'ex-' There is no absurdit}^ in saying that some things 
perience. immediately perceived as fact are also, and in the 
same act of intellect, perceived as things necessary or pos- 
sible. It is even reasonable to suppose that our first intuitions 

26 



402 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLIX. 

take place in connection with experiential cognition, and that 
the}' are not properly inferences, but presentational perceptions 
of things as in logical relations. Or we may saj' that in com- 
plete presentational perception intuition and experience unite. 
Thus, in the verj^ act of perceiving some event as resulting from 
some cause, we also perceive it to result necessarilj^ We see 
that it could not take place without the cause, and that, with 
the cause, it could not fail to take place. In such a cognition 
we would not infer the event from the cause., but perceive it as 
in necessary relation to the cause. 

In like manner mathematical intuitions may be presentational. 
We ma}' see three equal bodies and their equalitj^, and at the 
same time perceive the necessit}' that two of them, being re- 
spectively equal to the third, must be equal to one another. 

But it is true that the great use and value of intuitive judg- 
ment are realized in connection with inference. As the vital 
element in inference, intuition enables one to perceive and know 
things which he does not know alreadj', and which he cannot 
know in any other way. The fitness of intuition for this use, 
more than any other characteristic, is the ground of its philo- 
sophical importance and of its distinction from experience. 

While this latter mode of perception is wholl}^ presentational, 
the intuitive judgment may assume three forms. First, it also 
maj' be presentational, the perception of necessary relations 
between things visiblj' present. Secondly, it may be an actual- 
istic inference, in which, from some seen antecedent, we infer a 
real consequent as necessarily connected with it. And, thirdly, 
it ma}' be an hypothetical inference in which we merely suppose 
an antecedent, and thereupon infer a consequent as hj'potheti- 
cally necessary. In these two latter modes of judgment., intu- 
ition exhibits that peculiar power whereby it produces conviction 
on the mere presentation of a proposition^ and in the absence 
of the object asserted to exist. 

3. When we examine any spontaneous intuition or 
hldfvichlai^ self-cvideut belief, — as, for example, that some in- 
and general, dividual change which we observe must proceed from 
piatedTintui- a causc ; or that some particular change similar to 
guished*^^^ another must proceed from a cause similar to that 
of the other ; or that two individual things (bodies, 
weights, forces, lines, surfaces, solids, or any kind of quan- 
tities) , being each equal to a third, are equal to each other, — 
we find that the judgment does not depend on the whole na- 
ture of the things observed and judged about., but only on 
certain elements of their nature., which we perceive as the fun- 
damenta of the necessary relations. We ground our judgment 



Chap. XLIX.] EXPERIENCE AND INTUITION. 403 

on the perception that certain objects are quantities, and have 
relations and relata pertaining to them as such ; or on the per- 
ception that they are events, and have the relations and relata 
belonging to them as such ; or that they are substances, or 
powers, or spaces, or times, or relations of some kind, as iden- 
tity or diversit}', or similarity or dissimilarit}^ and have the rela- 
tions and relata connected with them as such. Our conclusion 
is logicaUy independent of an}' more specific (or specificative) 
features which ma}' accompany these radical characteristics. 

Such being the case, it is both possible and natural for think- 
ing men to withdraw their attention from those elements in ob- 
jects which are not necessary conditions of their judgment, and 
to concentrate their thought upon those w^hich are. In this way 
abstract singular judgments are formed^ presenting that which 
is self-evident simply as having the nature which makes it self- 
evident ; and from these^ by an application of the homologic 
principle^ general judgments are derived^ v^hich express fun- 
damental laics^ and which may be used as radical rules of 
inference. 

For example, perceiving or thinking about any individual event 
simply as such, we can immediately say that it must have a 
cause, and that, too, a cause corresponding to its own nature, 
and which, if repeated, will produce a similar effect. Or should 
we add together three equal amounts of some particular sub- 
stance, as sugar or salt or water or wine, on two or more oc- 
casions, we might, thinking of them only as quantities, say that 
the sum in each instance is equal to that in each of the other 
instances. Then, immediately consequent upon such individual 
judgments, we have the general " principles," that there is no 
effect without a cause, that like effects have like causes, and that 
if equals be added to equals, the sums will be equal. 
How far and 4. Every such general judgment sets forth that 
intuitfvVanr which is nccessaril}' true in any particular instance 
intuitional whatever, in which the antecedent of the judgment 
are outoiogi- Hia}^ exist. Such a judgment, therefore, ma}' be re- 
cai. garded as expressing an universal laio of being. It 

states what absolutely must be true of some subject provided 
that subject exist. It asserts that anywhere, or at any time, 
or in any system of being, in which that subject may be found, 
that law must prevail. Because these generalized intuitions 
would be true under any possible system, they may be distin- 
guished as ontological judgments, and may be said to express 
ontological laws. 

This character may be given to them on the further ground 
that they would be necessarily employed by rational beings, 



404 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. XLIX. 

under any system of existence, as really applicable to the forms 
of entity composing it. In other words, our abstract intuitive 
judgments are not only such as would he true., if applicable.^ 
under any system of being .^ but are such cdso as must be ap- 
p)licable. For this reason, therefore, — as connected with the 
very existence of things, in case things exist at all, — we may 
call them ontological judgments, and say that they indicate 
ontological laws. 

Those concrete intuitions in which objects are regarded in 
their whole nature, and without rejection of those elements on 
which the necessar}^ perception does not depend, might also be 
called ontological, as containing and embod^'ing the necessary 
judgment ; and they sometimes do receive this name. The}^ are 
ontological, however, not as to their whole nature, but only in 
an inferior and secondary sense, and as including judgments 
which more properly deserve the designation. 
Cosmoio icai "^^ Contrasted with the abstract or general judg- 
judgruents mcut, the coucrctc intuition might be distinguished 
being con-^ as cosmological ; and so our intuitions might be 
Crete intui- divided into two kinds, the ontological and the cos- 
related to^ mological^ — these latter having, in addition to the 
^ud^mente thought and perception which ontological judgments 
emplo}', and which i\\Qj also emploj', modes of con- 
ception and of conviction peculiar to themselves. 

Our most noted cosmological judgments relate to the specific 
operation of natural causes. Let us, for example, take our in- 
tuitions respecting the explosion of a percussion cap by the 
blow of a hammer. Presentationalh- , we sa}^ that that particu- 
lar blow (with its attending circumstances) was necessaril}^ fol- 
lowed b}^ that particular flash and report. Inferentiall}^ we say 
that another cap, just like that one, would be exploded by a 
similar blow. These judgments pertain not to cause and effect 
in the abstract, but to the hammering and explosion of certain 
percussion caps. 

Evidently, too, the propositions expressing them, when un- 
derstood as the utterances of intuitional or necessary truth., 
are self-evident in the sense that they need onh^ to be con- 
ceived or stated in order to be believed. Our conviction in 
each case assumes or starts from our observation and analysis 
of the actual phenomena. But at the same time these judg- 
ments, as setting forth necessary relations, include, and are 
founded on, modes of perception which do not depend on our 
knowledge of any instituted order of thmgs, but which employ 
principles of absolute necessity, and are emphatically ontological. 
They include the judgments that a change demands a cause ; 



Chap. XLIX.] EXPERIENCE AND INTUITION, 405 

that the true cause, or a reliable sign of it, is discoverable by 
T\^hat logicians call the method of difference (for the explosion 
takes place only when the blow is given) ; and that like causes 
are conjoined with like effects. 

These principles are ontological ; a7id not only does the cos- 
mologiccd judgment iiwolvie the assertion of them^ as a part 
of itself hut its whole force,, lohether as a presentational per- 
ception of necessity or as an inference,, depends on,, and flows 
from,, this assertion. 

The only part which experience performs in connection with 
inferences respecting the actual operations of Nature is to give 
a knowledge of fact simply as such, and without reference to 
the logical relations of fact. Thereupon inferential perception, 
according to ontological principles, taking hold of the facts, 
and retaining the specific forms of thought furnished by experi- 
ence, 3'et without any further aid from presentative perception, 
can produce the conclusion proper in the case. The judgment 
that the explosion necessarily follows the blow is something so 
independently intellectual that it takes place as well on tlie sup- 
position or remembrance, as on the perception, of the facts ; 
while the judgment that a similar cap will be exploded by a sim- 
ilar blow is a homological inference from the particular intuition 
already made. So that although cosmological judgments find 
the specific form of their data and of their conceptions in ex- 
perience, or the observation of fact, their whole force comes 
from the apprehension of truths which are evident merely on 
being stated and independently of our cognition of the actual. 

Therefore, as opposed to experiential perception, and as being 
a mode of necessary and of inferential perception, the cosmo- 
logical judgment is intuitional, and, in a certain limited sense, 
ontological. 

While our reasonings respecting the operations of specific 
causes are pre-eminentl}' cosmological, all other inferences, which 
employ any mode of conception not essential to the ontological 
principle which they follow, have the same character. Such are 
mathematical judgments and inferences about natural objects, 
considered as such and as having their observed peculiarities. 
The assertion that a pound of feathers is of the same weight as 
a pound of lead, because the}^ are each equal in weight to a 
pound of iron, is a cosmological intuition. 

Such judgments, yet more evidentl}^ than those regarding 
causational sequence, depend for their strength on the abstract 
principles which they enclose and embody. 



406 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. L. 

CHAPTER L. 

METAPHYSICS, OR ONTOLOGY. 

r bil- ^' '^^^ doctrine of the reliability of our original, or 
ity of experi- primary, judgments, or perceptions, relates equally to ex- 
ence and in- periential and to intuitional perceptions. But it is more 
tuition. comprehensive than that which asserts the reliability of 

every mode of presentational cognition. 

Both our first perceptions of simple fact and our first perceptions 
of things as necessary, or as contingent, are presentational. They 
are immediate cognitions respecting our own souls and bodies as being 
and as being related, as acting and as acted upon, now and here. 
These presentational judgments, when tested, exhibit every possible 
mark of trustworthiness. In the first place, they are attended with irre- 
sistible conviction ; in the second, they are upheld by the universal consent 
and " common sense " of mankind ; and, thirdly, they are perfectly con- 
sistent and coherent with each other. 

We have now to add that both memory, the reproduced knowledge 
of fact, and that intuitive inference in which judgments of necessity and 
contingency are repeated, while the things asserted to be necessary or pos- 
sible are not immediately present, have the same marks of reliability as 
our presentational cognitions. 

When we speak of these intuitional judgments being repeated, we 
do not of course mean that they are repeated from memory, or even 
that the present has any dependence on a previous perception of truth. 
We only recognize the fact that the mind can perceive the same con- 
nection of things inferentially which it formerly perceived presenta- 
tionally, in each case acting independently and according to the same 
law of conviction. 

Moreover, it is to be noticed that the knowledge thus 
perceives an gained is that of an objectual necessity. It asserts not 
objectual ne- merely that we must believe something, but that this some- 
cessity. thing in its own nature must be so, and cannot be other- 

wise. We not only perceive that equals added to equals are equal, 
but also that this is so by an absolute and inherent necessity. Were 
this not so, it would be necessary to explain inferential intuition as 
sitnply a sort of memory, or as resulting in some way from reproduced 
experience. 

Some philosophers, resting on such an explanation, deny that we 
really perceive any absolute necessity, — that there are any such judg- 
ments as those called intuitional. But we appeal from these teachers 
to the unsophisticated consciousness of mankind. 

Others, who cannot deny that an objectual necessity is asserted, say 
that our intuitions are delusive and unreliable. To prove this, they 
adduce certain " antinomies," or contradictions, in which they claim 
that the primary judgments of the mind conflict with each other. 



Chap. L.] METAPHYSICS, OR ONTOLOGY. 407 

These antinomies, however, derive their force from concealed assump- 
tions and mistakes. They remind one of the arguments by which 
ancient sophists proved the impossibility of motion and the non-exist- 
ence of plurality. None of our primary cognitions have ever been 
shown really to contradict one another. 

But while defending the authenticity of intuition, we see no advan- 
tage in making for it doubtful or preposterous claims. For example, 
the doctrine that we have an intuition of the injinite seems unnecessary/ and 
untenable. In our own persons we perceive space and time and their 
necessary natures and relations. The convictions that space is bound- 
less, and that time has been without beginning and shall be without 
end, are constructively and inferentially derivable from these immedi- 
ate cognitions. In like manner belief in a Supreme Being, though 
very natural to the soul, appears to be not an immediate, but an 
inferential conviction. 

Ratiocina- '^^^ doctrine that all intuitions which are not presen- 
tion a series tational are either actualistic or hypothetical inferences, 
ofintuitions. throws light on the nature of reasoning. Every link by 
which, in a chain of ratiocination, one fact is connected with another 
already known, is an actualistic intuition; and every similar step by 
which one imaginary fact is united to another is an hypothetical intui- 
tion. Therefore, as the whole chain is composed of such links, we 
conclude that reasoning is simply a series of connected intuitions. 
It is admitted that every step in any mathematical demonstration em- 
ploys some axiom or postulate, or rather follows that law of necessity 
or of possibility which the axiom or postulate expresses. So, also, 
when we predict a course of successive events, we reason according to 
those radical laws which connect cause with effect and similar causes 
with similar effects. And even those principles which regulate our 
inferences in contingency and in probability are intuitive perceptions 
of necessity and of possibility. 

If these remarks be true, there is an intimate connection between 
the philosophy of intuition and the science of logic; for they show 
that reasoning not only begins with intuition (which is the common 
statement), but also employs intuition at every step of its progress. 

2. Those two modes of cognitive judgment which we have called 
experience and intuition perfectly blend and unite in all our ordinary 
perceptions and convictions. For this reason, in previous discussions, 
intuition and experience have been spoken of not simply as two modes, but 
also, and more definitely, as the tivo radical elements of belief , or convic- 
tion ; for it is scarcely possible for us to perceive or think of any fact 
without also perceiving some of its necessary relations. 
The intui- Growing out of this distinction between the elementary 

tionai and modes of conviction, is another, already noticed in an early 
elemente^lnof chapter, between the intuitional and the experiential ele- 
thought and ments of thought, or conception. The intuitional elements 
(2) of being, of conception are those which enter as thought-factors into 
axioms, and into the most abstract statement of our necessary convic- 
tions; the experiential are those additions, obtained in experience, by 
reason of which a judgment which would otherwise be purely onto- 
logical is a cosmological intuition. These experiential elements never 



408 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. L. 

enter into any ultimate law of conviction ; they only affect and color 
our convictions. 

Tliis distinction between the intuitional and experiential elements 
of conception is not parallel with that between the intuitional and 
experiential elements of conviction; that is, ice cannot saTj that only 
intuitional elements of conception are employed in ifituitional cognitions, 
and only experiential in experiential. On the contrary, both modes of 
conception are employed in each mode of belief. Cosmological intui- 
tions employ experiential conceptions as well as those on which their 
peculiar force depends; and our experiential cognition of things in- 
cludes, and sometimes mainly consists in, the perception of elements 
which serve also as the fundamenta of necessary, or logical, relations. 

When one sees a man walking along the road, his body and its 
parts, his place, his size, his motion, and his rate of speed, are all 
perceived as matters of fact. But these things involve such radical 
entities as space, time, substance, power, action, change, quantity, and 
relation, which are ontological elements. Plainly, experience perceives 
such elements, and objects compounded from them, as well as the 
non-ontological peculiarities which may be found in such objects. 

There is, however, a distinction immediately connected with that 
between intuitional and experiential elements of conception, which is 
exactly parallel with it, and which some have confounded with it. It 
is that between the intuitional and the experiential elements of entity. The 
elements thus divided are the objects, or rather the ultimate ele- 
mental parts of objects, which correspond to the elements of con- 
ception. They may also be distinguished as the ontological and the 
empirical elements of entity. Let us speak first of the one, and 
then of the other. 

The ontolocxi- Different thinkers have given different categories, or 
cal elements summa genera, of those elements of being which are the 
of entity. bases, or fundamenta, of necessary relations, and there- 
cendeiital' foi*© also the essential matter of intuitional conviction, 
objects of So far as we can see, there are in all seven such categories, 
intuition. g^j-j^^ beside these seven elemental genera, several radical 
kinds of relation which subsist between them, and which constitute 
another comprehensive category. The seven are space, time, quantity, 
substance, power, action, and change. These categories are to he regarded 
as setting forth absolutely simple elements, and as being entirely exclusive 
of one another. They furnish the necessary constituents for the 
framework, or form, of particular entities. 

Beside these generic categories there are what we may call the 
transcendental objects of intuition. They are simple entity, or being, 
existence, non-existence, necessity, and possibility. They are transcen- 
dental, not because they transcend presentative cognition, — no cate- 
gory does that, — but because of their universal logical applicability. 

That science which specially discusses the intuitional elements both 
of conception and of entity, together with the leading laws of convic- 
tion and of existence, was named metaphysics by the disciples of Aris- 
totle. Aristotle himself entitled it "The First Philosophy." It has 
also been called ontology, or the science of being, this term bringing into 
prominence the objective side of the science. 



Chap.L.] metaphysics, OR ONTOLOGY. 409 

Moreover, because ontological principles affect almost every question 
concerning the intellect, the name " metaphysics" is frequently, though 
improperly, applied to mental philosophy in general. Metaphysics and 
logic are twin branches, both outgrowths of the general philosophy 
of mind. 

The experiential elements of entity and the elements of 
The experien- conception corresponding to them include all those simple, 
oithinlt^ ^^ 01' ultimate, modes of thought and of being which are not 
arises from intuitional, or ontological. Unlike the ontological elements, 
modes^n^*^"*^ they are seldom the objects of special and separate consider- 
whiclr power ation ; they merely qualify or characterize. In all ordinary 
^1/1'^^^^' generalization only experiential thought is dismissed; that 
which is retained has an intuitional constitution, and in 
the highest abstractions is purely intuitional. Intuitional thought fur- 
nishes a framework, or form, lohich is filled in and clothed with the ex- 
periential, and with inhich the latter is always found united. 

In what way the experiential and the intuitional elements of entity 
are related to each other by reason of their own natures, — in other 
words, how those modifications of being which are simple and ultimate 
to experience are connected with those elements wliich are simple and 
ultimate to intuition, — is a question for metaphysics rather than for 
mental philosophy. But we may say that the experiential character 
seems specially related to power and its operation ; for it primarily 
attaches itself to those specific modes of power by the operation of 
which, either in or upon spiritual beings, feelings are produced. The 
peculiarities both of the sense-affecting qualities of material objects 
and of the life and experience of the soul itself, as these are seen by 
sense-perception and consciousness, are the primary objects and sources 
of experiential thought. These peculiarities are recognized as affect- 
ing every part both of the spiritual and of the material universe, and 
are of a countless variety. 

Intuitional- ^- That theory of immediate cognition which distin- 
ism. Seep- guishes between experience and intuition, and which ex- 
ticism. Dog- plains the nature of each of these modes of mental action, 
Kantianism, ^as been named intuitionalism. This doctrine at once admits 
Association- all the facts presented by consciousness, and explains these, 
alism. after their true nature, according to generalizations justi- 

fied by a careful comparison and analysis. Oh this account we believe 
that it will stand as the final statement of philosophy regarding man's 
primary beliefs. 

The excellence of the intuitionalist view may be illustrated by the 
incompetency of all other theories which have sought the approval of 
studious minds. These may be rudely classified under four heads, 
as the sceptical, the dogmatic, the Kantian, or idealist, and the asso- 
ciationalist theories of our primary convictions. 

p. ., . . In ancient times, philosophical scepticism nourished itself 

sceptSm? on the sophistical refinements of Pyrrho regarding our ac- 
Pyrriio, knowledged cognitions ; in modern times, under the leader- 

^'^^' ship of David Hume, it has triumphed in overthrowing 

inadequate accounts of our perceptions of fact and truth. But it never 
has been a common doctrine even among philosophers; for no man, 



410 MENTAL SCIENCE. [Chap. L. 

however he may be puzzled by subtile difficulties, can really doubt 
the testimony of his senses and of his consciousness, or the intuitive 
perceptions of his intellect. 

. That school in philosophy which maintains that the mind 

UeberwegT' ^^^ ^^® power of immediately 2^ erceiving fundamental truth in 
Locke, aud the form of general abstract principles, has been called the 
ouoted^^^ (dogmatic. "Dogmatism," says Ueberweg, "has an im- 
mediate faith in the power of human thought to transcend, 
by the aid of perfect clearness and distinctness in its ideas, the limits 
of experience, and attain to truth." This doctrine is an improvement 
on scepticism ; but it sets out from a wrong starting-point, and tends 
to the acceptance of abstractions whose truth and authority may be 
denied. 

Locke attacks dogmatism when he denies that maxims, or axioms, 
are " the principles and foundations of all our knowledge," and main- 
tains that " all the materials of reason and knowledge come from 
experience." In Locke's writings, experience is to be taken in a 
broad sense for presentational perception in general. 

But the doctrine that all cognition is primarily a perception of the 
singular, has been struggling for recognition from the earliest begin- 
nings of philosophy. That famous saying which Aristotle borrowed 
from the Stoics, " Li intellectu nihil est quod non prius fuerit in 
sensu," is no obscure anticipation of Locke's assertion that all knowl- 
edge originates in experience ; for in this statement aXaOqais is to be 
taken broadly to signify every kind of immediate perception. 

The doctrine of Kant ivas an attempt to explain and defend 
Mealism ^™' ^^^'^ truth ivhich dogmatism inaccurately taught, — that is, the 
intellectual origin of our cognitions. But Kant failed to see 
that experience is as intellectual as intuition, and that intuition is not 
a mere power of forming conceptions, but a cognition of things as they 
truly exist. His a priori ideas are far more fanciful things than the 
general principles assumed by dogmatism. Kantianism has this only 
in its favor, that it contains more of truth than any of those systems 
of pure idealism to which it gave rise, and which agree with it in 
substituting conceptions for cognitions. 

Association- Finally, associationalism presents the weakest and most 
alism. Mate- unsatisfactory account possible of our original perceptions and 
rialism. Sen- beliefs. This form of error is plausible and captivating, 
sationaism. especially when divorced from the grosser schemes with 
which it is commonly united. Materialism, which confounds molecular 
with psychical activity, and sensationalism, which confounds all thought 
and feeling with bodily impressions and their reproduction, inevitably 
ally themselves with associationalism, which confounds the objective 
laws of inference with the subjective laws of the succession of our 
ideas. 

The weakness of all these modes of philosophy is nowhere more ap- 
parent than in their attempt to account for the radical conceptions and 
convictions of the mind. The harder one tries to form such notions 
as those of space and time and substance and pow&r, from the associ- 
ation of "feelings, or impressions, or states of consciousness," the 
more he will realize the impossibility of doing so. And the more one 



Chap. L.] METAPHYSICS, OR ONTOLOGY. 411 

endeavors to identify our conviction of logical necessity with that of 
an acquired psychical necessity governing the sequence of our thoughts, 
the more he wiJl find that logical necessity pertains to objects, and is 
truly perceived by the mind viewing them. 

The convictions that all things must exist in space and time ; that 
power must reside in substance ; that action comes only from power, 
and change only from action; that nothing can be existent and non- 
existent at the same time, and that a thing must be either existent or 
non-existent; that the nature of space admits geometrical figures and 
relations, and necessitates certain connections between them ; and that 
quantity, in like manner, admits and necessitates arithmetical rela- 
tions, — these, and many other principles, irresistibly assert themselves 
as simple, ultimate, objective verities. 



INDEX. 



NOTE. 

This index may be useful to students as a vocabulary of philosophical terms ; 
these are explained here and there throughout the book. It will also enable one to 
trace the interpretation of doctrines and discussions. But students who may desire 
to make specific examination of authorities will find the "Human Mind" more 
helpful than the present manual. This index simply shows when and how often 
■writers have been quoted and referred to in " Mental Science." 



A BELARD, Peter, 226. 

-^ Abercrombie, Dr., 175, 326, 357. 

Abstraction, 205, 215, 403. 

Accident, wide sense of, 211. 

Acquired sense-perception, 266, 270, 310, 
313. 

Acquisition, mental, 170. 

Action, 210, 408. 

Action and passion, as categories of predi- 
cation, 111. 

Alo-flrjo-t?, 261. 

Albertus Magnus, 69, 226. 
Anal.ysis, 7, 195, 205, 213. 
Anselin of Canterbury, 269. 
Antecedents, logical,'l40, 160. 
Antinomies of Kant, 406. 
Apprehension, or an understanding of 

the "that," 93. 
"A priori" and "a posteriori," 132, 

306. 
Aquinas, Saint Thomas, 69, 99, 226. 
Archimedes, 170, 353. 
Aristotle, 5, 31, 58, 101, 182, 226, 228, 

280, 270, 275, 279, 284, 294, 301, 386, 

388, 389, 408, 410. 
Art, 366. 

Article, the definite, uses of, 217. 
Article, the indefinite, uses of, 218. 
Assertion and assertive, 98, 105. 
Associationalism, 22, 50, 181, 410. 
Attention, 71, 166. 
Attribute, 207, 375. 
Augustine, Saint, 33, 270. 
Axioms, 21. 



■gACON, Lord, 4, 42. 

Bain, Alexander, 39. 
Being, 72, 228, 407. 



Belief, 19, 93, 100, 108, 111, 118, 242. 

Bell, Sir Charles, his discoveries, 43. 

Berkeley, Bishop, 227, 264, 266, 316. 

Bessie's chickens, 320. 

Blackstone, quoted, 119. 

Boethius, quoted, 222. 

Brown, Dr. Thomas, 17, 68, 362. 

Bruckner, quoted, 193. 

Brutes, 48, 379. 

Buda^us, 170. 

Burns, quoted, 336. 



rUBANIS' experiments, 355. 

^^ Calculation of chances, 396. (See 

" Human Mind.") 
Campbell, a nominalist, 227. 
Cardan, 170. 

Categorical, or ostensive, syllogism, 391. 
Categories, of predication and of entity, 

lid, 210, 408. 
Cause and effect, 214. 
Chances, 162, 165. 
Characteristic, 211. 
Cheselden's report, 310, 319. 
Cicero, his "l)e Officiis," 175; quoted, 

275. 
Clarke, Dr. Samuel, quoted, 264. 
Co-existence, 148. 
Coherency of truth, 277. 
Coleridge, 175, 353. 
"Common sense," 12, 40, 273, 276. 
Comte, Auguste, 39. 173. 
Conception, 83, 87, 206, 230. 
Conceptualism, 229. 
Concomitant perception, 129, 300, 396. 
Condillac, 51. 
Condition, as a category of predication 

110. 



414 



INDEX. 



Conditioned, the, 401. 

Conditions, necessary and logical, 140, 

146. 
Conscientia, the term, 249. 
Consciousness, 8, 167, 249, 256, 273. 
Consistency of truth, 277. 
Contingency, 159, 307, 387. 
Conversion of inferences, 139, 147. 
Conviction, 93, 103, 239, 273, 378, 386. 
Copulative verb, 107. 
Cosmological judgments, 404, 408. 



TjELIRIUM tremens, 360. 

■^^ Democritus, 28, 260, 299. 

Demonstration, 387. 

Descartes' views, 30, 31, 58, 132, 240, 

262, 282. 
Design, 42, 188. 

Atavoia, 7], 234. 

Dickens, mentioned, 169. 
Difference, formal or specific, and indi- 
vidual or numerical, 211, 214. 
Discourse and discursive, 234, 381. 
Diver, the soul compared to a, 49. 
Dogmatism, 409. 
Dreams, 350. 
Duns Scotus, 69. 



"pGO, perception of the, 250, 256. 
^^ Element. 22, 199, 205, 210, 407. 
Empedocles, 260. 
Empirical, 22, 398. 
"Er, TO, 228. 

Entity, 80, 209, 222, 408. 
Enunciation and assertion, 98, 105. 
Epicharmus, quoted, 287. 

'ETTtCTTJJpirj, 77j 261. 

Evidence, 118, 133, 243, 270. 
Existence, 72 ; real and imaginary, 80 ; 

object of belief, 98, 106, 346. 
Existential, 106, 112. 
Experience, 21, 307, 396, 406. 



PACT, 111, 120, 397. 

-*- Faith, 96. 

Fallacies of sense, the, 323. 

Falsit}'^, or untruth, 98. 

Fancy, 363. 

Fantasy, 348, 355, 362. 

Fichte,'5, 131. 

Form, 82, 209, 230, 261. 

Forma , prima and secunda, 211. 

Fox, Charles J., his vitality, 27. 

Franz, Dr., his experiments, 316. 



riASSENDI, 172. 

^^ Generality, limited, 218. 

Generalization," 215, 384, 398, 402. 



Geometrical ideals, 375. 

God, has no brain, 47; conceivable, 97; 
argument of Descartes for existence of, 
242 ; his intelligence and omnipresence, 
288 ; his infinitude, 305. 

Goodvear, 353. 

Gray", the poet, 299, 337. 

Grounds of belief, 134. 



TJABIT, 191. 

-'--'- Hallucinations, 360. 

Hamilton, Sir William, 16, 18, 25, 32, 

33, 58, 61, 67. 69, 74, 79, 96, 100, 103, 

126, 168, 173, 183, 227, 244, 254, 259, 

267, 277, 282, 294, 312, 327. 
Hartley, 51, 63, 181. 
Haven, Dr., 17. 
Hegel, 5, 228. 
Hierocles, quoted, 286. 
Hobbes, Thomas, 227. 
Homological reasoning, 391. 
Horace, his " Ars Poetica," 204; quoted, 

366. 
Hume, 55, 180, 227, 252, 257, 264, 274, 

275. 
Huxley, 39. 
Hypothesis, 372, 376. 
Hypothetical knowledge, 113, 135, 372; 

judgment, 346, 390,^402. 
Hypothetical necessity, 146. 
Hypothetical possibility, 155. 



TDEA, 225, 262. 

^ Idealism, 126, 410. 

Idealistic knowledge, 113. 

Ideal objects, 87. 

Ideals, 366, 374, 375. 

Identity and diversity, literal or numeri- 
cal, ilO, 214; logical, 220. 

Illation and illatiye, 121, 134. 

Imagination, 75, 92, 345, 362, 372. 

Imagination, ethical and motiye, 370. 
(See "Human Mind.") 

Immaterial ism, 41. 

Inconceivability, 77. 

Individuality, 216, 230, 243, 345, 402. 

Induction, 6, 163, 202. 

Inference and inferential, 93, 114, 117, 
135, 150, 152, 383, 402. 

Infinity, 97, 305. 

Inherence and non-inherence, 109. 

Intellect, defined, 2 ; divided, 19 ; special 
sense of, 238. 

Intuition, 21, 163, 234, 238, 271, 285, 303, 
305, 309, 310, 381, 398, 406. 

Intuitionalism, 22, 409. 

Inyention, poetical, philosophical, and 
practical, 371, 377. 



INDEX. 



415 



TOUFFROY, quoted, 60. 
^^ Judgment, 93, 100, 105, 121, 331, 
338, 383. 

"IT" AMES, Lord, quoted, 335, 338. 

-^^ Kant, 96, lU3, 130, 193, 194, 306, 

379. 
Kantianism, 96, 410. 
Kepler, 373. 
Knowledge, 95, 100, 111, 237. 



T ANGUAGE, 9, 246, 384. (See " Hu- 

-■^ man Mind.") 

Laws, of existence and of nature, 229, 

374. 
Leibnitz, 34, 58, 102, 173, 238, 242. 
Livingstone, quoted, 13. 
Locke, 5, 15, 58, 76. 100, 102, 172, 229, 

235, 237, 242, 249,' 252, 258, 262, 280, 

282, 291, 292, 294, 301, 316, 318, 329, 

379, 391, 410. 
AoYos -yvwo-TiKo?, or gnostic reason, 261. 
Lucretius, quoted, 260. 



lyfACAULAY, Lord, 340. 

^^ Malebranche, Pere, 34. 

Hansel, 96. 

Materia, prima and secunda, 209, 210. 

Materialism, 39, 50, 286, 410. 

Matter, 209, 285, 293. 

McCosh, Pres., 80, 105, 259, 281, 283, 

398. 
"Memoria Technica," 343. 
Memory, 272, 327, 335. 
Metaphysical Avhole and parts, 199, 206. 
Metaphysics, the science of the necessary 

forms of thought and being, 406. 
Metcalf, Mr. J., or Blind Jack, 321. 
Mesmerism, 357. 
Mill, James, 51. 

Mill, J. S., 51, 54, 103, 252, 255, 330. 
Milton, 368. 
Mnemonics, 340. 
Morphy, Paul, 339. 
Muscular feelings, 26. 

■MECESSITY, 142, 307, 387, 400, 406. 

•^^ Negation, 81. 

Newton, Sir Isaac, 4, 14, 169, 338, 353, 

373. 
Non-ego, the, 286. 
Non-existence, 81, 106, 308, 346. 
Notion, 230, 383. 
Nov?, 6, 234; distinguished from i? 4'VXVy 

26 L 



OBJECTIVITY and objectualitv, 74, 

^ 81, 406. 

Occam, William of, 69, 226, 262. 



Occasional causes, 33. 

"Ov, TO, 228. 

Ontological, 22, 154, 403, 408. 

Ontology, 406. 

Orthological reasoning, 391. 

Ostensive inference, 390. 

Otherness, or the relation of numerical or 

individual difference, 214. 
Ouo-ta, 110, 226. 



n5v, Tb, 228. 

Parmenides, 228. 

Partition and composition, 199. 

Pascal, his memory, 338. 

Patricius, quoted, 25. 

Perception, 93, 231, 235, 240, 259, 266, 

300, 310, 321, 329, 381, 396. 
Perceptional ism, defined, iv. 
"Perse," 107, 209. 
Petrus Hispanus, Pope John XXIL, his 

logical formula, 348. 
Phantasy, distinguished from fantasy, 

imagination, and fancv, 344, 363. 
Phases of mental life, 20, 231, 383. 
Phrenolog}^, 10. 
" Plastic medium," 33. 
Plato, 5, 33, 58, 225, 240, 260, 285. 
Poetry, 363. 
Porphvry, 226. 
Porter, Pres., 16, 32, 58, 62, 68, 79, 91, 

103, 105, 176, 183, 190, 266, 281, 283, 

313, 324, 358, 367. 
Porterfield, Dr., 264. 
PossibilitA', 21, 76, 151, 257, 347, 387, 

400. 
Postulates, 21, 153. 
Posture, category of, 110. 
Power, 210, 284,' 409. 
Predication, 106, 109, 214. 
"Pre-established harmony," 34. 
Presentational conviction, 114, 121, 269, 

397, 398, 401. 
Presentationalism, 130, 133. 
Primordial evidence, 122, 135, 237. 
" Primum cognitum," 244. 
" Principium individui vel individua- 
tion is," 230. 
Probability, 161, 387, 396, 400. 
Process and product, 66. 
Product and object, 67. 
Proof, 134. 

Proposition, the, 101, 106, 385. 
Psychology, 2. 
Pyrrho, 409. 
Pythagoras, 225- 



QUALITY, 211. 

^^ Quantity and quantitative, 110, 210, 
213, 303. 



416 



INDEX. 



'* T>ATIO cognoscendiet ratio essendi," 

-^ 150. 
Ratiocination, 386, 40T. 
Realism and nominalism, 222, 225. 
"Realists," natural and hypothetical, 

126. 
" Real " possibility, 155, 258. 
Reason, 20, 378, 399. 
Reason (or antecedent) and consequent, 

115, 136. 
Recollection, 256, 334. 
Redintegration, 183. 

Regressive and progressive methods, 203. 
Reid, Dr. Thomas, 15, 18, 31, 59, 63. 77, 

80, 103. 105, 167, 191, 2£9, 259, 263, 

275, 278, 281, 291, 302, ;i27, 352. 
Relations, 109, 110, 143, 210, 213, 306. 
Reproduction, 174, 178, 231. 
Reverie, 349. 
Rhapsodists, 339. 
Rider, Jane, her case, 359. 
Roscellinus, 226. 
Ruskin, quoted, 318. 



OAMENESS, literal and logical, 220. 

^ Scaliger, quoted, 150. 

Scepticism, 409. 

Schelling, 5, 228. 

Schema and schematic, 82. 

Scholastics, the, 226. 

Sch-wegler, quoted, 5. 

Self, perception of, 251, 328. 

Self-active and self-helpless, 289. 

Self-determination, 168. (See "Human 
Mind.") 

Sensation, 24, 33, 236, 238. 

Sense, 24, 238, 250, 260, 269. 

Sensorium, 27. 

Shakspeare, quoted, 336, 355. 

Sight, 315, 322. 

Singular, 216, 402. 

Sleep, 59, 355. 

Smith, Adam, quoted, 319. 

Solidity, 291, 293, 295. 

Somnambulism, 174, 355. 

Soul, the, 285; its spatialitv, or exten- 
sion, 30, 129, 282. 

Space, 210, 302. 



Species, 262. 

Spencer, Herbert, 38, 39, 51, 54, 103, 173. 

Spinoza, 5, 228. 

Stewart, Prof. Du2:ald, 63, 64, 68, 168, 

191, 227, 245, 338, 351, 354, 368, 369. 
Substance, 110, 207, 208, 210, 258, 279. 
Substantum and attributa, 209, 211, 228. 
Sufficient reason, 138. 
Suggestion, 180. 
Supposition, 372. 

Syllogism, 386. (See "Human Mind.") 
Synthesis, 196. 



TTANGIBLE and intangible, 290. 
^ Tennent, Rev. Wm., 176. 
" That," knowledge of the, 112. 
Theory, 373. 

Thomas, Rev. Dr. T. E., 170. 
Thought, 19, 93, 237, 242, 287, 407. 
Time; 210, 303, 304, 332, 354. 
Transcendental objects, 408. 
Trinchineiti's experiments, 319. 
Truth, 98. 
Tyndall, 39, 44. 



TTEBERWEG, quoted, 410. 
^ Understanding, 382. 
Unit, 197; rb eV, 228. 
Unity, 302; of spirit, the, 287. 
Universals, 217, 222. 



TTALENTUST'S observations, 325. 

Yarro's saving, 255. 
«' Vis inertise," 298. 



" WHAT," knowledge of the, 112. 

" When," category of, 110. 
" Where," category of, 110. 
Whole, 198; metaphysical, 199, 206, 

212; logical, 218; rnathematical, 200; 

collective, 198. 



^ENO, the stoic, 226. 



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alone. There is no other like it. It is worth all else that has been written on the 
subject. Some of the passages, too, in which he describes the moral dignity and 
glory of the inspired narrative of the Bible, are among the finest in our literature." 

LOWRIE, John C, D.D. 

Missionary Papers. i2mo 1.50 

LOWRIE, Samnel T., D.D. 

The Epistle to the Hebrews explained. 8vo 3.00 

*' It gives evidence not only of diligent and thorough study, but of a high de- 
gree of scholarship and acquaintance with the Scriptures. '. . . We think we 
hazard nothing in saying that this exposition of this important portion of Scripture 
is at least equal to any that has been produced in this country." — Herald and 
Presbyter. 

MACLEOD, Dr. Alex. 

The Wonderful Lamp. i6mo i.oo 

The Gentle Heart. i6mo 1.25 

The Children's Portion. i2mo 1.50 

'_' These Talks to Children present Dr. Macleod in a new light, and a very 
fascmatmg one. The tales are told with a gentle grace of diction in adaptation to 
the capacity of children without descending to their weakness, all along giving a 
confident sense of being sustained by reliable strength. And in some of them 
will be felt a depth of genuine pathos against which the heart of the maturer 
reader will not be always proof." — Scotsman. 

McCHEYNE, Rev. Robert M. 

Life, Letters, Lectures, and Sermons. 8vo 3.00 

McCOSH, Dr. 

*Works. New and neat edition. 5 vols., 8vo, uniform , . 10.00 
Comprising : — 



1. Divine Government. 

2. Typical Forms. 

3. The Intuitions of the Mind. 



4. Defence of Fundamental 

Truth. 

5. The Scottish Philosophy. 



Any volume sold separately at 2.00 

"Thousands of earnest, thoughtful men have found treasures of argument, il- 
lustration, and learning in these pages, with which their minds and hearts have 
been enriched and fortified for better work and wider influences." — N. Y. 
Observer. 

Dr. McCosh's Logic. i2mo 1.50 

Christianity and Positivism. i2mo 1.75 

Philosophic Series. Paper. Each 0.50 



8 



Robert Carter & Brothers' PiLhlications. 



MACDUFF, J. R., D.D. 

Morning and Night 

Watches. 32mo . . $050 
Mind and Words of Jesus, 

and Faithful Promiser . 0.50 
Footsteps of St. Paul . .1.50 
Family Prayers. i6mo . i.oo 
Memories of Gennesaret . 1.50 
Memories of Bethany . .1.00 
Bow in the Cloud. i8mo 0.50 
Sunsets on Hebrew- 
Mountains. i2mo . . 1.00 
Thoughts of God. 32mo, 

red edges . . . . . 0.50 
Memories of Olivet. i2mo 1.25 
Noontide at Sychar. i6mo 1.25 
Memories of Patmos. 1 2mo 1.25 
Tales of Warrior Judges. 
i6mo 1.00 



St. Paul in Rome. i6mo . . 

Comfort Ye, Comfort Ye 

The Gates of Prayer. 24mo . 

Clefts of the Rock. i6mo . 

Wells of Baca. 24mo . . 

Footsteps of St. Peter. i2mo 

Brighter than the Sun. 8vo 

Eventide at Bethel. i2mo . 

Palms of Elim. i2mo . . 

In Christo. i2mo .... 

Gleams from the Sick Cham- 
ber 

Hosannas of the Children. 
i2mo 

Story of a Shell. i2mo . . 

Early Graves. i2mo . . . 

Knocking. 24mo . . . . 



$1.25 
1.50 
075 
1.50 
0.50 
2.00 
2.00 
1.25 
1.50 
1.25 



0-75 



1.50 
1.50 
1.50 
075 



MEADE, L. T. 

Scamp and I. i2mo . 1.25 

David's Little Lad. i2mo 1.25 

A Knight of To-Day . . 1.50 

Water Gipsies. i6mo . i.oo 

Your Brother and Mine i.oo 

Bel-Marjory. i2mo . . 1.50 



Dot and her Treasures. i6mo 
The Children's Kingdom 
Andrew Harvey's Wife . 
Nora Crena. i6mo . . 
Mother Herring's Chicken 
i2mo 



I.oo 

1.50 

I.oo 
I.oo 



I.oo 



MILLER, Hugh. 

Life and Works. 12 vols. i2mo g.oo 

Comprising "Life and Letters," "Testimony of the Rocks," " Old Red Sand- 
stone," " Footprints of the Creator," " First Impressions of England," " Schools 
and Schoolmasters," "Tales and Sketches," " Popular Geology," "Cruise of the 
Betsey," " Essays," and " Headship of Christ." 

These are sold only in sets, but the separate works can be still got at the former 
prices, as follows : — 



Footprints of the Creator $1.50 
Old Red Sandstone . . 1.50 
Schools and School- 
masters 1.50 

Testimony of the Rocks 1.50 

Cruise of the Betsey . . 1.50 

Popular Geology . . . 1.50 



First Impressions of Eng- 
land 1.50 

Tales and Sketches .... 1.50 

Essays 1.50 

Headship of Christ . . . 1.50 
Life of Miller. By Bayne. 

2 vols 3.00 



' Was there ever a more delightful style than that in which his works_ are writ- 
ten? Smooth and easy in its flow, yet sparkling ever more, like the river as it 
reflects the sunbeam, and now and then raging with torrent-like impetuosity, as 
it bears all opposition before KV — Rev. Dr. IV. M. Taylor. 



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